


Dreams Come Slow and They Go So Fast

by FlashySyren



Series: When All Seems Lost [1]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Lies and Schemes, Loki as Loki, Loki as Odin, Major Character Injury, Major Character Perceived Death, Minor Character Death, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashySyren/pseuds/FlashySyren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki managed to get the throne for himself, but now he has to figure out how to keep from being discovered and replace Odin as King because the ruse won't work forever. Unfortunately, plans have a way of going awry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only Need the Light When it's Burning Low

**Author's Note:**

> The title and chapter names of this fic come from the song Let Her Go by Passenger because that song created feels I couldn't ignore until plot bunnies started popping up everywhere; however the song has little to do with the fic at all.  
> This work has not been beta'd, all editing mistakes are my own, and I will hopefully keep them to a minimum. If there are any glaring errors, I appreciate the heads up so I can fix them.
> 
> Obligatory Disclaimer:  
> All characters belong to Marvel, I'm simply borrowing them for entertainment purposes and earn no monetary profit for my time and efforts.

The entire compound was on fire, the men and women who ran the science department for this particular HYDRA base had tried to escape before the building came down or had a run in with one of the three Avengers who had come to put an end to their endeavors. Thor dropped into the middle of the inferno, smashing through the roof, intent on making sure it was at least mostly clear. He didn’t wish death by fire on even his worst enemies.

It would take more than the heat of this fire to pose a threat to Æsir physiology, and he registered the flames as a warmth worthy of Muspelheim, but little more. Squinting against the smoke as he moved through the nearby rooms to ensure that they were empty. The third he stepped into was not, a young woman lay crumpled on the floor, white lab coat a stark contrast to the splash of dark hair, turned ebony in the murky light. The sight sent Thor’s heart to pounding, a long ago memory halting the air in his lungs. He scooped her up, carrying the woman’s limp body back the way he’d come, and as he went his eyes kept falling to the familiar curve of her cheek, the angle of her jaw. By the time he got her out to the paramedics, he’d almost convinced himself that he knew this seemingly black-haired woman; that he’d once carried her, broken and bleeding, from a burning battlefield.

Blond brows pulled tightly together, Thor laid her down carefully onto a stretcher, stepping back when she was swarmed by the men and women who would save her life, or would have were there any life left to save. He watched helplessly while their voices rose, and they scurried about her body; watched as they quieted, the sad shake of a head.

“Sif….” He whispered it to himself, little more than a groan, and the use of the name was ridiculous. Despite this mortal’s vague resemblance, she was nothing like the war goddess. He would have brushed it off as an odd occurrence, except this wasn’t the first time he’d caught sight of another and his mind had gone straight to the warrior he left behind.

Still the pain in his chest did not ease and as the paramedics covered her body in a sheet to await the coroner, Thor stepped forward to stop them, raking his eyes over her features and her slight frame, every feature that was not Sif’s. He turned away, his troubled emotions painted clearly upon his face, and looked up to see his teammates striding toward him.

“Hey man, you a’right?” Clint asked, looking past Thor to the covered body. “An innocent?”

Thor shook his head, his sooty mane falling over his shoulders. “No, one of the scientists.” He sighed, unhappy blue eyes moving from the archer to Steve, clad in his fire-damaged suit. “I am finished here.”

“We still have a debriefing to do, you can’t just leave.” The Captain replied, his gaze, too, going to the body. “Did you know him?”

“Her.” He replied irritably. “No, I did not know her.” He started to swing his hammer, preparing to take off. “You may debrief me later.” And took off into the sky.  
__

He let himself back into Jane’s flat, knowing she wouldn’t be home yet, not for hours in fact, as she often worked long into the night. Mjölnir was dropped in the corner of the room on his way to the shower where he stood under the hot water until there was none left and the spray went as cold as a spring pond.

Perhaps it was premonition. He thought as he finally turned off the water, reaching for a towel. Why else would he see her face amongst the crowds? Hear the lilt of her voice in the background noise? It was distracting and confusing, but most of all he was getting tired of the rush of adrenaline it always brought on, the pain that hooked its claws around his ribs, pulling and twisting until his lungs seized in his chest.

Even when he knew beyond a doubt that none of those women could possibly be her. Thor knew his friend well enough that the way he’d left things, she would not seek him out, and she’d never been much interested in Midgard, not since they came when they were young. The memory of that visit, the first time Sif’s deadlier nature had made it itself known, rose in his mind.

He could remember the carnage, the fallen bodies, and scattered weapons, and Sif standing amid them, soaked in blood her teeth flashing as she searched for another victim. She was feral, angry and wild, her linen tunic torn, not cut by weapons, but ripped by hands, and he’d understood. Sif left for the Valkyrie soon after that, and again he had understood. Yet there was so much more that he did not understand, and he worried for the shadows in his mind.

Not least of all that Heimdall had ignored his call. He shouldn’t have been surprised, that his father hadn’t argued his decision to turn away from his birthright should have been warning enough that might happen. It seemed he was no longer welcome in Asgard, but the uneasy feeling that something was wrong could not be assuaged if he had no contact with his home.

Thor dressed in Midgardian attire, a pair of blue jeans and a snug black t-shirt and moved back into the living room. He forced his mind to Jane and the love she offered him, he did not take it for granted as he had the attentions bestowed upon him by others. She was special. The curve of her lips, the sound of her laugh… Never had he wanted to hear anyone’s laugh as he did hers. Mortal lives were painfully fleeting, but he would wait out hers, and if the Allfather would not allow him to return until he had, well, that was the price he would pay for love.

Why then was Sif so on his mind? Her affections for him had never been much of a secret, but neither had she been overt in them, and aside from the occasional feast where too much alcohol had been involved, or a bout of battle lust turned to another sort, he took care not to acknowledge it. He had never wanted to hurt her.

And yet he had. Despite the way she had address him during his goodbye, the careful way she had avoided his eyes without making it look as if she was, he had caught the pain there. The flash of betrayal, and with his mind inadvertently turned back to her, he could recall it with absolute clarity.

Thor had cared about her, of course he had, she was his friend and shieldsister, but she had been a fellow warrior, not a potential lover. He hadn’t loved her, not like that.

He had not loved her.

But he did love her.

The realization was a rude slap to the face, his bare toes curling into the rug, reminding him that he was still standing in the middle of the living room, and he dropped carefully onto the couch, scrubbing his calloused hands over his beard.

Maybe that should have eased his mind, explained the hauntings, instead it only made him recall every recent slight. He could see her every effort to pull him back to Asgard, she had wanted to put him back on his path, but he’d been too deep in the underbrush to see it, too set on his destination.

Thor could see the sin he committed against her, and knew beyond a doubt that this trespass was not the same as the others he had carried out. He had not simply overlooked her for another woman just as he had a thousand times before, he had put her and all his friends at risk to save Jane, and paid them for their loyalty by leaving with little more than a goodbye.

Looking back, he could see that he had been blinded by his grief, the loss of his mother, Loki dying in his arms, he wanted to mourn, needed to feel alive, and Jane offered him that ability. Why did he feel like he’d committed a crime for looking after himself?

Surely Sif could find her own ways to ease her mind, but he already knew she would not. After Loki’s first ‘death’ she’d buried her grief, throwing herself into training…. And trying to draw him out. He hadn’t realized that perhaps she had been looking for someone to mourn with. The only other person who knew how important Loki had been to her. Maybe only the Allmother, beside himself, had an inkling to the complicated relationship that existed between war and mischief, and now, in hindsight, he could remember that Sif had, indeed, spent more time with the Queen in that time than she had since she was only a girl and Frigga had taken it upon herself to ease Sif’s chosen path.

Guilt hung heavily on Thor’s shoulders, foreboding seeping into the very marrow of his bones as he searched his memory for Sif’s face at his mother’s funeral and failing. He could remember only Jane’s presence, Fandral and Volstagg standing nearby, and probably the first indication of a chasm opening between himself and the raven-haired warrior.

And still when he’d asked her assistance in helping him commit treason, she had played her part.

Loki’s face surfaced, almost tangible in its clarity, the brother who had forever striven to be noticed at Thor’s side until hate and anger had perverted the trickster’s love for his brother into something dark and twisted and all too desperate. He had never realized just how far his shadow could extend, but now he could see a turn in himself as well as his brother, just as selfish and no less hurtful even if his own betrayal had not been intentional.

His fingers raked through his hair, tugging at the braids he forgot to take out for his shower. He had taken advantage of his friends, used them as tools, and discarded them just as easily. Temporarily or not, he’d learned how a single action could fester, breaking down bridges long forged. How much damage had he done over the last several years?

With a desperate need to repair what was broken, he rose to his feet, calling Mjölnir to his hand, and swept out onto the balcony.

“Heimdall!” He called, tilting his face to the sky. “Take me home!” A gust of wind was his answer, blowing damp blond hair around him, almost leading him to believe that his call would be answered this time, but the breeze died and silence followed. Only the far off sounds of the city could be heard.

Thor ducked his head, certain that he had the gatekeeper’s attention, even if he could not do as he asked. “Tell her I’m sorry, Heimdall. Tell Sif that I will make it up to her somehow, I’ll not lose another family member to being oblivious.” His voice rumbled low in his chest and he turned away to return inside, not expecting a response.

“Thor?” Jane’s soft intonation made him look up, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, he truly wasn’t sure if he would ever get over the way she made him feel. “What’s wrong?”

“Too much reflecting today.” He hummed and pulled her close, burying his nose in her hair to breathe her in. “It is good that you are here.”


	2. Only Hate the Road when You're Missing Home

Two days passed in which Thor immersed himself in the affairs of his friends. He debriefed with Fury, and though he could see that the Director was angry at the delay, they both knew there was nothing he could do to correct the Æsir prince for the crime. Not wishing to be alone, he spent his days in Jane’s lab, exchanging quips with Darcy and playing Angry Birds on his Stark Phone. It gave him peace of mind to be close to those he loved, and he pushed his worries of Asgard away.

Which was why he was sitting at the end of Jane’s desk, in a wooden chair that he knew would eventually refuse to hold him, but for now, it wasn’t the most uncomfortable place he could sit. Jane was bent over her work, an array of print outs spread across the desk surface which she was squinting at studiously. Thor knew better than to ask about it, she was somewhere else entirely and would not answer. He turned his attention to Darcy instead, sprawled over the office chair she occupied like a belligerent Regent. One leg was thrown over the arm of the chair, the other tucked up under her as she leaned back against the opposite arm, twisting the chair to get a better view of her computer screen, a cheeky smile pulling at the young woman’s lips.

Thor’s curiosity was piqued enough that he rose from the chair which creaked angrily as he moved, but he was interrupted by JARVIS, the AI’s smooth tenor addressing him.

“Mr. Odinson, you have an Asgardian messenger here to see you. Should I let him in, Sir?”

Unease twisted in his gut and he nodded. “I will meet him in the lobby.”

“Yes, sir.” JARVIS replied before going silent.

Jane looked up, her brow creased in concern. “What do you think it’s about?”

He rested his hand on her shoulder, offering her a small smile. “Perhaps it is an end to my father’s angry response to my departure.”

She smiled in return, placing her hand on top of his; though she doubted that was the case. “That would be nice, I know you miss Asgard.”

Turning his hand over, he grasped hers and pulled it toward him, placing a kiss on her knuckles. “Asgard can wait, beloved.” But even as the words slipped free, he regretted them, something was amiss, he knew it for true, and if he could just go home to find out what it was…

Jane squeezed his hand. “Would like me to come with you?”

“You are working, I’m sure it is nothing of too much importance. I’ll return shortly.” He released her hand when she nodded, her attention immediately returning to the papers in front of her. It was one of the things he loved most about her, the single-minded determination she held when it came to her work.

He was glad to have reached the door when he cringed, suddenly thinking about another woman who threw herself into everything she did.

Heimdall would have passed his message on to Sif by now. Perhaps she was the one responsible for the missive that had just arrived. That thought eased his mind and the purpose in his quickened steps as he made his way down to the lobby.

The rubber-soled shoes he wore, squeaked on the travertine tiles that made up the flooring as he moved toward the Einherjar who stood out like a black unicorn among a herd of white. The guard gave a curt bow when he recognized his prince, offering up a tightly rolled parchment.

Thor smiled at him but it was fleeting when he saw the seal on the missive. It was not Sif who sent the message, nor his father, but Heimdall. The gatekeeper would never attempt to contact him unless something were wrong, and even then, there were few things that would prompt him to call on Thor.

He glanced up at the guard who gazed back at him, apologetically, Thor thought, if he were to have to put an emotion behind the man’s regard.

His skin prickled and he half turned away to read with some semblance of privacy. The letter was not addressed, he knew it was for him, and Heimdall rarely wasted time on such formalities. His seal was proof enough who it was from.

_I did hear your call, my Prince, and though our King has decided that you need not be informed, your desire to apologize to the Shield Maiden Sif prompted me to do so anyway. ___

Thor found himself reading that sentence over again, not sure he quite understood, and almost afraid of what the rest of the letter would say, afraid he already knew what it said, but he swallowed painfully and read on.

_Unfortunately, I cannot pass your message on to Sif. She was sent off on a quest by the Allfather a fortnight ago where she vanished beyond my sight and has not returned. The Warriors Three were dispatched to find her, but were unable to do so. ___  
 _Her pyre burns at nightfall. I am sorry to pass on the news in such a way, and if I could return you for the funeral, I would; however our King will not bend on his decree that you reap the consequences of your self-imposed exile. ___

The parchment blurred when his heart stopped, breath trapped within ribs that felt as if they were cracking under the pressure of grief, and when he finally forced himself to breathe, the air burned his lungs, and his heart resumed beating, pounding as if it could bash its way out of his chest. The missive crushed in one meaty palm with a dry crinkling sound, and he turned to leave.

“Prince Thor.” He turned back to look at the Einherjar who now watched him grimly, holding out a second missive. When Thor grasped it, he bowed again and departed, leaving him to break yet another of Heimdall’s seals.

_Miðgarðr; Nörðland; Fjöll; ___

Followed by a series of runic numerals that Thor immediately recognized as Bifrost coordinates.

_This was the last place she was seen. If you could find my sister’s body, I, at the least, would appreciate it. ___

The tenuous control he’d regained was torn away with that single sentence, the memory of Loki’s dying breaths, his brother’s blood soaking into the shards of chipped shale that covered Svartalfheim’s surface. Thor couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had done what he had not. He never went back for Loki’s body. Instead he had gone to Midgard.

He had just needed to get away from the reminders that haunted Asgard. Every shadow, and every glimmer held memories of those he’d lost, but it was the consequences of his choice that haunted him now. Girded against the pain, he returned to the elevator, ignoring the concerned looks of the receptionist.

It seemed to take twice as long to return to Jane’s office as it did to get to the lobby, but finally he burst through the door and strode over to Darcy’s desk.

“I need a map.” She sat up quickly and slid her chair closer to the desk.

“Sure. A map of what?” Sensing his mood she managed to keep her quips to herself.

“What’s wrong?” Jane was out of her chair bending over Darcy’s desk to see what he was doing.

Thor shoved the missives at her without looking up from the computer screen. “The Scandinavian northlands. the mountain ranges, I need to see them.”

“Thor, you know I can’t read your runes.” Jane shook the parchments at him. “What is going on?”

“Got it!” Darcy exclaimed, leaning aside so Thor could more easily see the computer screen before her gaze slid between her best friend and the thunder god beside her.

“Thor…!” A touch of fear edged Jane’s voice, and finally Thor looked up at her, his eyes fever bright. “What happened?” She breathed.

He may have tried to smile reassuringly, but whatever the intended expression, it came out as a grimace. “Darcy,” he dropped his eyes to the map on the screen again, “can you overlay that map with GPS coordinates?” He dug into his pockets for the device that SHIELD had given him to ease his travels to different assignments, and once he’d produced it, set it down on the desk.

Jane watched him in exasperation, not sure if she was angry at being ignored or terrified that there was something that had him this upset and yet he didn’t want to tell her about it.

“It might take a minute.” Darcy murmured, going to work. “I’ve never tried to do that before.”

Thor’s hand rested briefly on the young woman’s shoulder in thanks. “Lady Sif is….” He cleared his throat. “I have been asked to retrieve her body.” And this time he refused to meet Jane’s eyes when she searched his face.

Darcy’s fingers froze on the keyboard, remembering the woman who had come to New Mexico among a band of men. “What happened?” She asked, resuming typing to complete Thor’s request.

“…I’m sorry.” Jane told him softly and stepped around the desk to wrap her arms around his waist. He pulled her close, and when she looked up at him his composure was starting to crack. Her palm cupped his cheek and he leaned into it with a shaky breath. “I know she was your friend.”

“A loyal friend.” He murmured with a small shake of his head. “Not even Heimdall knows, or if he does, he did not say. She vanished from his sight.”

Jane brightened. “But that’s good, right? I mean, I vanished and was still alive, and so did…” She trailed off, seeming to regret that she’d already gone too far not to say it. “Loki… he did too, and still came back.”

Thor managed a small sad smile. “Loki’s situation was... different, and you were missing a mere matter of hours. Sif has been gone a fortnight… roughly two weeks by your calendar, and since she vanished here, on Midgard...” He sighed. “The situation is not in her favor, especially after a search party came back empty handed.”

“It’s done.” Darcy interjected awkwardly, pushing her chair sideways to again accommodate Thor’s bulk.

Jane seemed not to hear, looking almost angry. “A search party couldn’t find her, but your father thinks you can?”

“It is Heimdall’s request, not my fathers.” He gave her a squeeze and turned back to the computer.

Jane snorted. “After Odin told him to.” Thor’s head bowed, his hand raising from the table to close into a fist.

“The request of a brother, wishing to send his sister off properly.” His jaw flexed at the onrush of memory from Loki’s funeral, what felt like a lifetime ago. “An empty pyre is… I will do what I can to find her.”

“Oh…” Jane replied softly, trying to reconcile the giant gatekeeper with the warrior woman.

“Sif’s mother is also one of Heimdall’s.” He said by way of explanation before he focused on the computer screen, running equations through his mind as he used the known reference point of Central Park to convert Bifrost coordinates to GPS coordinates.

Thor jabbed at the screen. “Can you make this larger?”

“Absolutely!” Darcy exclaimed, trying to lighten the tension she felt she was drowning under, but all it earned her was a couple of side-eyes from the other occupants in the room, and she sighed, doing as Thor asked.

“It’s here.” He rumbled, mostly to himself. “Čordnooaivve.” The mountain was oddly squat and wide, looking more like a rolling hill than a mountain, but Heimdall’s coordinates led him to a cleaved off area, a dark cave peering out of the cliff face. What in all the nine had the Allfather been searching to have sent Sif there? Thor straightened. “Thank you Darcy, for your assistance.”

He turned to Jane and bent to kiss her, tangling his fingers into her hair to draw her closer, fighting back his possessiveness to keep the act gentle before he pulled away. “I must go.” He turned away, half anxious to go and half reluctant, vanishing out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally planned for this story to fit within four chapters, but now it looks like it will be a minimum of five. I'm trying to keep the plot from exploding, but so many ideas! Ahaha.
> 
> In any case, thank you all for reading and the kudos, it's always good to know that my flailing around at the keyboard is not a complete failure. And again, this work is not beta'd, I apologize for my editing errors.


	3. Only Miss the Sun when it Starts to Snow

Odin descended the dais, scowling deeply after his outburst at the peasant who thought to bring so unimportant a civil dispute before him on this day. A day he would be mourning the loss of yet another of Asgard’s children. Who dared believe that an argument over an over-watered wheat field had any importance in the face of the death of warrior who had once been as good as fostered by the wife he had so recently lost? Fools, the lot of them.

And yet…. Inwardly, he was pleased, it was the perfect excuse for him to close court for the day and use the time he had left until nightfall to search again for Sif. Finding time to do so had been very difficult with the many duties of the throne, but he could no longer put off her funeral, and the last thing he wanted to do was send off an empty pyre.

It had been a mistake, he knew that now, to have sent her alone, but he _did_ have reason for it. The fewer people to see the relic he sent her after, the smaller the chance that they might put together what it was, and why he might want it.

Thor’s friends had shown themselves to be completely untrustworthy where orders were concerned, and the relic was powerful and dangerous. An excellent tool indeed, but the unfortunate truth was that he would be just as vulnerable to its power as anyone. That is, if the stories of the weapon were to be believed, and of course, he did believe them, otherwise he would have never sent anyone after it, and in sending Sif in on her own, she would be too busy dealing with the monsters and puzzles that protected it to have the opportunity to remember a hunting trip many centuries in the past when Loki had told the story of the lost relic.

The guards accompanied the Allfather to his rooms, and Odin paused, looking back at them as he opened the door. “I do not wish to be bothered for the remainder of the day. See to it that _no one_ enters until sundown. I intend to rest.”

He did not wait for a response, these were Odin’s personal guard, loyal only to him, he could trust they would do as he asked. Moving into the wards he had recently added to those already protecting the royal suites, he closed the door firmly behind himself. Seidr shimmered around Odin’s form until it wavered and was replaced by another form, the true form of he who held Gungnir at present. Loki leaned the spear against the wall and cloaked himself against Heimdall’s sight before using his knowledge of the forgotten paths to arrive at the cave he’d sent Sif.

As he had done before, he followed her path through the cave; though he had painstakingly erased all sign of her passage before sending the Warriors Three in search of her, They were to know nothing of where she had gone. His deception had worked, with no proof that she had ever been in the cave, and his careful effort to ensure that the tiny antechamber that Sif had discovered, situated at the back of a small offshoot that descended deeper into the mountain, had been hidden by fallen stones, their search of much of the labyrinth of the cave had been fruitless. They had been thorough, however, and moved to the surrounding hillside, combed the wilderness, but had not found her, or any clue as to where she had gone.

With the flick of his wrist, the rubble was shoved away violently, stones sent flying, crashing against the cave walls with a surprisingly hollow sound. As are many of the mountains in Norway, this one was volcanic, and the caves that crisscrossed it were lava tubes. Thus the stones that littered its rippled surface were rough, porous and jagged, and oddly lightweight for their size.

“Sif!?”

Loki spun around at the sound of booted feet running across the uneven cave floor, more lava rocks skittering when kicked out of the way, it was a wonder, really, that the runner did not fall on any of them.

“Sif!” The familiar voice called again, and Loki made to move, to duck into the crawlspace he had opened up. Too loudly, it seemed, thinking he was alone here, and how had Thor ever found this place anyway? The orb of green flame that Loki had been navigating with was quickly extinguished, but even as quick as the trickster could be, he was not fast enough, and despite his previous luck on the treacherous surface, Thor did stumble.

“Loki!?” It was all at once a question and an exclamation, his intonation choked and disbelieving, and Loki smirked in the murky shadows that the meager light from Mjölnir’s sparking surface could not quite reach.

His amusement at Thor’s distress was short lived with the realization that he had to somehow explain his presence there. He sighed heavily, glad for the cover offered by darkness while he plied his trade.

“So Odin finally decided to send someone competent after Lady Sif.” He intoned dryly.

“Heimdall did, actually.” Thor responded absently, sounding puzzled before his voice strengthened and he moved closer to Loki. “What is this? How are you here? You died! In my arms….”

_Heimdall! Of course it was!_ Loki pushed his irritation away, schooling his voice. “And dead I remain, Th-”

Anything else that Loki might have said was cut off when he slammed back against the cave wall, thankfully protected by his thick leather coat though his head still cracked painfully against the rough surface..

“What are you?!” Thor growled. “What have you done with Sif, you vile creature?!” He could see the man before him, and even in the flicker of dim light, he would know his brother anywhere, but his mind struggled to wrap itself around his presence.

Loki looked briefly surprised, his expression thrown into relief by the meager light produced by Thor’s hammer before he caught hold of himself. “ _I_ have done nothing to Sif. I am here searching for her just as you are.” He hissed in return, and it was not a lie.

“You lie, Loki! The dead know nothing of what happens with the living!” And Loki wondered what, exactly, the anguish on Thor’s face was for. The most selfish part of himself hoped that Thor’s suffering was for him and him alone.

“When have I ever claimed different? But though I lie often, I do not lie always.” Loki bared his teeth at him, formulating a mistruth during the pause. “I was with Hela, my _daughter_ if you could be troubled to remember that I have one, when Odin spoke with her. It seems he did not wish to declare her dead were she not truly.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Not so with me, as my funeral took place rather quickly after my fall, or so I heard.”

Feeling somehow relieved and stung at once, some of Thor’s temper cooled, but even as he started to put the pieces together, he dared not trust his brother, dead or alive. “It was not the same, Loki. You fell into the abyss, beyond even Heimdall’s sight, beyond Yggdrasil. Your soul-” It was there that his voice broke, and he stepped back, freeing Loki. “If she never arrived in Valhalla, and Hela does not have her in Helheim, then she is either alive or lost to the void herself.”

“Yes.” Loki reproached. “And you are wasting valuable time which she and I likely have little of.” He smoothed his palms over the front of his clothes, and straightened to his full height, shorter than Thor, but somehow still capable of looking down his nose at him. Though Loki doubted he could be dissuaded from his quest now, it would be best if he could continue on alone. “Speaking of _time_ ,” he emphasize the word with no shortage of dripping irony, “I would think you to be in quite the rush to return to your mortal, feel free to depart at your leisure.”

“You are mad if you believe I would leave you alone to find her. Whether you speak truth or not, Heimdall requested this of me, I will not fail him in this.” _The way I have failed you._ The words caught in his throat despite having the opportunity to apologize that he had so often hoped for, and Thor cursed his pride and his fragile heart.

Loki scoffed derisively. “Ah, yes. Heimdall who is always so willing to commit treason in your name.” He grinned, a sharks smile of wicked teeth and selfish intention. “And just what did your dear father do to punish him for this second indiscretion against his rule?” His words hit their mark perfectly as he’d known they would, Loki knew that Thor was not privy to the consequences Heimdall had accepted for siding with a Prince over his King. He knew that Thor was entirely uninformed where any of his friends’ punishments were concerned.

It didn’t matter that guilt was an emotion Thor had grown accustomed to experiencing, Loki’s question was yet another twist of the knife, another failure that he hadn’t even thought to consider with everything else, but rather than respond as he once would have, he steeled himself. “Did you not just say that time was short? We should get moving.”

Loki’s hooded eyes sparked in the dim light, but he didn’t argue, just turned to gesture at the crack in the cave wall. It widened as it neared the floor creating a crawlspace. “I was just headed this way when you came barreling in here.”

Thor arched an eyebrow and drawled, “After you.”

“You still don’t trust me.” Loki chuckled, and dropped down to crawl through the opening in the wall. “Good for you.”

Once Loki had vanished into the darkness, Thor followed, rising to stand in a very small room on the other side, but at least it was tall enough that the two of them could stand upright. He moved Mjölnir toward the walls, examining them for any sign that Sif had been there, then paused, stepping closer to the wall opposite the crawl space. It did not reflect the light, but seemed to absorb it, and the surface _rippled_ like the water in a quiet pond.

“Well?” Loki’s voice was impatient. “Who shall go first this time?”

“Do you think this is the way Lady Sif has gone?”

“Do not be dense, where else could she have vanished to?” Loki sighed. “Fine, I will go first.” And before Thor had the opportunity to respond, he walked straight into the wall, disappearing, again, into darkness. Having traveled this way before, Loki was prepared for the drop on the other side, landing in a crouch amid a thick forest in broad daylight. Thor was right behind him, hitting the ground in an awkward tangle of limbs from the unexpected fall, and Mjölnir flying just out of reach..

“Your time with the mortals has made you clumsy!” Loki laughed, offering Thor his hand in an expression of goodwill.

Eyeing Loki warily, he took the offered hand, and was hoisted to his feet, but no sooner had Loki released his hand than he was hit square in the chest by a mass of silver fur and snapping teeth. It’s jaw closed around Thor’s shoulder, his armor held, protecting him from the animal’s bite, but not from the force of its attack which sent him crashing back to the ground, pinned under the creature's weight.

“Thor!” Loki’s cry preceded a blast of magic that knocked the huge wolf off Thor’s chest before he raced toward him, yanking him to his feet. "Get Mölnir! We have to get moving!"

He didn't argue, but just as he reached for the weapon, the wolf had gotten it's feet back under itself and was poised to attack. Thor's fingers closed around the hammer's handle when it leaped toward him, and he swung hard, connecting with nothing except air. The force of the movement nearly sending him sprawling again. His target, the wolf, had never reached him, instead it had fallen into a heap, one of Loki's knife blades protruding from it's eye, which Loki retrieved, when a cacophony of howls sounded from the woods around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay with this chapter. I had some computer issues and had to rewrite it completely. The rewrite turned out a little different from the first draft, and I'm not entirely sure if I like how it turned out, but it's finally done, and I hope it isn't too rough. Also, I should apologize for the cliff hanger, but I won't. I'll just put a little extra effort into getting the next chapter out.
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for your patience, and thanks again for reading.


	4. Only Know You’ve Been High When You’re Feeling Low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay on this, writers block and my efforts to contain the plot were making it difficult. So, I've decided to just let the plot bunnies play out, and see where it takes me. Though I'm not making any promises to the speed in which the following chapters might come. I'll not make a further liar of myself. Again, this work is unbeta'd and all errors, of which I am sure there are many, are entirely my own. And of course, I own nothing.
> 
> A huge thank you for the wonderful comments and support I've gotten for this story. Without you, I would have abandoned it for sure.

Thor glanced around them, then pointed Mjölnir in a direction that Loki refused to believe was anything but random; however, having done some exploration of this particular area already, would have suggested the same.

The trickster gave him a half nod in response, and strode off, hoping the wolves would be drawn to the dead, rather than continue to track after them..

“What is this place?” Thor asked a few steps later. The entire land exuded seidr, but it was not of Yggdrasil, at least not entirely. It felt unnatural, not twisted like the lands of Svartalfheim, but _wrong_ nonetheless. There was nothing about this place that didn’t make him uneasy, nothing about this _situation_ that didn’t leave him on edge. Not least of all, Loki.

His brother was dead, Thor had seen him die, he’d held him when he died, and had he the ability would have remained with him long after. If Jane hadn’t been there to urge him on….

Blond hair fell over his shoulders when he shook his head to banish those memories. There was no place for grief here, what he needed was a clear mind, and some sort of idea for why the Allfather would have sent Sif there.

Loki rolled his eyes toward Thor, his expression as scornful as ever. “I have no solid answer for that, but one need only use their _mind_ to form a theory.” As he continued, his voice thickened with irony. “After the impressive display of strategic prowess that got us out of Asgard, I would think you could figure out this puzzle quite easily.”

“I have no desire to hear your veiled criticisms, Loki.” But the remark had gotten him thinking as they wandered --more aimlessly than the thunderer would have liked. They heard the wolves howl in the distance, but luck was on their side in that aspect at least, the animals seemed to have been sidetracked by their dead packmate.

Loki sped his pace, his stride lengthening as he caught sight of the first sign he’d seen of Sif. “Remains of a fire.” He muttered, more to himself than an explanation to Thor. Loki was heard anyway, and Thor matched his pace, hoping that this would be the clue they needed to figure out where she had gone.

The fire pit that had been dug was small, but that was no surprise, Sif had been uncomfortable around fire since the skirmishes with Muspelheim. It was still filled with ashes, long gone cold, but it was a sign that she’d left in a hurry, without taking the time to break camp properly.

The brothers caught sight of the torn ground just beyond the camp, seemingly simultaneously, the both of them moving quickly without speaking. There was clear evidence of a battle, furrows in the ground, torn up grass and uprooted foliage, dark brown stains splashed over nearby trees and greenery.

It had been long enough that grass was starting to fill in the ruts that had been dug by boot and clawed foot, and what hope was carried that they would find her alive was reduced. Loki looked over at his brother, and Thor saw something he was sure was guilt flicker across the trickster’s face. He cocked his head, crossing his arms over his chest, but as quickly as the emotion came, Loki’s face was as inscrutable as ever.

Thor looked away, scanning the clearing, his eyes lingering on the splashes of dried blood before he tore them away, telling himself that there would be some indication that Sif had fallen here if whatever she had battled prevailed. Even so, he wasn’t a fool, he _knew_ it was unlikely she’d have dropped her weapon. Whatever killed her had probably died later with her glaive sticking out of its hide. He couldn’t return, though, not without definitive proof that she was gone, and hopefully, not without something to place on her pyre.

Loki had said nothing, turning his back on Thor and the campsite before he took off into the woods.

“Loki!” Thor called after him, jogging to catch up. “Did you find a trail?”

He didn’t look at him, in fact, Loki looked _away_ , presenting Thor with the back of his head when he began to speak. “You’ve done more hunting than I, did _you_ see a trail?” He looked back at Thor then, and if he’d been unsure about the guilt before, he surely saw it now, vexing though it was. “Lady Sif was sent here for a _reason_. She would not have abandoned her task, and there is no way she fell fighting some….. _beast_. The only direction that makes sense is this one.”

Thor conceded the point, if only because there was no actual evidence pointing in _any_ direction, thus none any better than another.

Abruptly, the bright blue of the sky, seen in patches above the treetops, darkened, bringing on an unnatural night that cast the pair into pitch blackness. Mjölnir was already in Thor’s hand, but now he raised it, calling static to its surface, but while he could see the outline of his hammer, blue in the darkness, it offered no illumination, not even lighting its own handle. “Loki?” He tried, reaching over to where his brother had been standing only a moment before, but could neither find him with his hand, nor hear any reply.

Gradually the sky began to lighten, and the previously temperate weather grew hot, uncomfortably so, until Thor was sucking in heat dry enough to sear a lesser man’s lungs. The orange sky brightened, and he recognized his surroundings, no longer forest, but hard-baked red clay. “Muspelheim.” He murmured, confused, and there was Loki again, right at his side, though he was doubled over.

Thor laid his hand on his back but it was promptly shrugged off with an angry hiss. “Too _hot_!” He pulled it back, not sure what to do for Loki as he usually avoided Muspelheim completely, something that made a lot more sense now. It took longer than it would have normally, but after a moment, Loki’s seidr shimmered in the heat, the scent of it somehow stronger in the oppressive atmosphere. Finally, he straightened, still looking ill, but at least on his feet. “Frost Giants and Muspelheim, not a good combination.” He spoke clearly, but couldn’t cover the shake in his voice completely.

“How did we get here?” A dozen questions sat on his tongue, but of them all, that one seemed the most relevant.

Loki laughed. “Can’t you feel it? The wrongness in this land hasn’t abated, we’re not _really_ on Muspelheim.”

Thor’s skin prickled uncomfortably in the heat, but it was a discomfort he could ignore. “Then maybe Sif is here somewhere.” He struck off, moving on in what he assumed was the same direction they were going before. His boots crunched over the ground, reminding him, oddly enough, of Jötunheim. Except this time, he wasn’t responsible for the danger Sif was in, even if he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that he was.

“Or maybe this is how this place defeats trespassers, figuring out their weaknesses and exploiting them. Extreme heat is no good for either of us, but it is especially difficult for me.”

The ground rose before them, a rocky outcropping of hills, backed by craggy mountains. All devoid of any sign of life. He knew it wasn’t true, there was an entire ecosystem on Muspelheim, mostly carnivorous, living beneath the ground during the day, only coming out to hunt each other in the night, but there were plants as well, in the high grounds, succulents of a sort, hardy and nutritious, though dangerous in their own right. Often covered in symbiotic insects that fed off of them even as they protected the plants from larger threats.

They crested the hill, and Thor froze, memory bubbling up as he looked down upon a battlefield. The battle was over, as nothing alive seemed to remain, the ground below covered in corpses. Fire Giants and blacked Æsir both littered the valley. He had stood here before, looking over the carnage, but there was a difference this time. No Einherjar moved among the dead, counting up the fatalities, and the camp Asgard had erected was missing. It was utterly silent, eerily so.

He didn’t look over at Loki as he descended into the valley, into the pall of death and burned flesh that hung heavily over the area. “You recognize this.” Loki stated quietly, and Thor dragged his gaze from the nightmare stretched out before them, to finally look at his brother.

“You were in Alfheim, training in magics and playing the diplomat. Muspelheim was making threats, and father wanted to make a point. Sif almost died in this battle.”

Loki nodded curtly. “Then Sif is probably here. Somewhere.”

Thor couldn’t suppress the feeling of dread, the sudden certainty that while he had saved her once from a fiery death, he had ultimately failed, and the woman he’d tried to save from a burning Hydra laboratory was a bad omen. “We should walk the dead.”

“Sif is _not_ among the dead.” Loki growled. “She’s smart, would have taken shelter somewhere.” He gestured at the mud-colored peaks, rising above the surrounding hills. “Probably in the mountains.”

“I hope that is true, but we will search for her here first.” Thor winced at the pain he could hear in his voice and wished he could be as confident as Loki in Sif’s continued life.

“You waste precious time!”

“I will bring Heimdall his sister’s body, I’ll not leave her here to rot!”

Loki turned on him, fingers hooked around Thor’s armor in a way he rarely reacted, behaving more like Thor than himself. “Where was that loyalty when it was _my_ body left to decay?!”  
Thor dropped Mjölnir, raising his hands as he crumpled to his knees in the red dirt, too hard beneath him to even send up dust. Loki followed, tugged down by his own grip, and Thor wrapped his arms around him. His hand curled around the back of Loki’s neck, catching his hair beneath it as he held him close. “I’m sorry, Loki. I’m sorry, but I--”

“Didn’t have a choice.” Loki replied bitterly, and pulled away. “Sif’s soul was not in Valhalla, not with the warriors and not with the Valkyrie, nor was it with Hela. She _is_ alive, and I’ll not waste valuable time seeking her among the dead.” He waved his hand over the battlefield. “Dead who are unrecognizable anyway.” He rose to his feet, uncharacteristically clumsy in the heat, and did not look back to see if Thor followed, but he did follow, swallowing down his grief and the fear that they would never find her.


	5. Only Know You Love Her When You Let Her Go

It was impossible to determine how much time was passing as the sun, too large and glowing white, never shifted from its position high in the sky. Instinctively, however, they knew hours had passed since entering this world, and Thor found it unlikely that he could get Sif’s body back in time for her funeral even if he found it. Loki had claimed to be under a time constraint as well, and he wondered, absently, if he would simply vanish when Hela decided he had to return to Helheim.

The oppressive heat did nothing to make their search any easier, either, and though Loki continued to lead with a kind of single-minded determination, the toll it was taking on his body was evident. He moved almost as if he was wounded, slightly hunched, and staggering over uneven ground. The only thing that concerned Thor more was their continued failure to find any sign of Sif or any place that she might have hidden away to escape the punishing sun.

The silence between them was nearly as uncomfortable as the sweat that rolled between his shoulder blades and slicked the inside of his leathers. There was so much he wanted to say to Loki, but as regretful as he was for how things had turned out, he was still angry as well. Angry at whom specifically, at _what_ he couldn’t decide, but it still burned low, and now it was slowly working its way to the surface as his frustration grew.

A dark shadow appeared against the otherwise red expanse of mountainside, and Thor pointed at it, feeling the first flash of optimism in an indiscernible amount of time. “Cave.” His voice rasped, mouth and throat parched from the inhalation of dry air.

Loki stumbled as he looked back, eyes looking a little wild in the brief moment Thor could see them before the trickster looked in the direction he was pointed, and moved off again in that direction.

Thor overtook him, leading the rest of the way to the cave, receiving a needed adrenaline rush with the possibility that they’d finally found her. He paused at the entrance, eyes adjusting to see inside the darkened interior, finding the shallow cavern to be empty. His shoulders slumped before his temper rose, and he bellowed, fist connecting with the earthen wall hard enough to loosen a few stones before Loki reached his position, yanking him back by the arm.

“What are you _doing_?” Loki hissed, pushing past him to get inside. “Have you learned nothing? Not everything is as it seems here.”

Thor followed, not feeling contrite at all, rather defeated. The interior of the cave was stifling, warmth trapped within the interior with no wind to stir it at all. The only thing it had going for it was the small temperature break the shadows offered. There was barely enough room for the two of them to stand within, but now that they were inside he could see that the back wall looked strange. There they found an overlapping of stone at the rear of the chamber, offered a narrow opening into another chamber.

It was hard to see on Muspelheim’s--or rather this disturbing duplicate of said realm’s--red soil, but close up, a smear of dried blood was visible against the front wall of the opening. Someone, or _something_ that had squeezed in there had been bleeding.

Loki’s hand shook as fingertips brushed over the wide mark, but Thor had no patience for it, dead or alive, Sif was in there. She had to be. He slipped around his brother to wedge himself into the crack, nearly getting stuck as he pushed his way through into a, blessedly cooler, chamber beyond.

It was dark, and Thor blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the gloom, raising Mjölnir to provide light, but before he could a witchlight floated toward the ceiling and Loki joined him as the room illuminated.

Had Thor taken one more step, he would have tripped on her, curled up on the floor. Loki dropped hard to his knees, brushing blood-caked hair out of her face, but Thor could do nothing but stare. He’d known she was dead, but seeing her there, his friend…. He closed his eyes, closed out what he didn’t want to see, and when he opened them again, he focused on what little of his surrounding there were.

This chamber was only a little bit bigger than the cave opening, and when Sif had gotten inside, she’d stripped out of her armor and undershirt, all of it stacked in a semi-neat pile near her feet with her sword. That was it, all there was to see, and his gaze fell back on her. Her breast binding had also been removed, wrapped, instead, around her abdomen, used to soak up what remained of her life-blood.  
“Sif!” Loki sounded desperate, his pale hands cupping her face, his skin looking almost warm next to her ghostly pallor.

She didn’t rouse, and Thor hadn’t expected her to, but for a moment he had hoped. He moved then, bending to place a hand on Loki’s back. “Help me gather her things, I will carry her.”

Loki shook his head. “You’ll hurt her trying to get her out of here.” His voice had dropped, roughened, and he released her face, moving to examine the deep scratches in her shoulder.

“Nothing can hurt her now.” Thor’s voice broke, and he sucked in a breath to steady himself. “Not anymore.”

“Her heart still beats.” Loki whispered. “Barely. She’s lost too much blood to heal herself, and she’s dehydrated, but not dead. Not yet.” He rolled her carefully onto her back. “I only have one healing stone.” Carefully, he sought where Sif had tied off the binding.

The grip of her dagger was resting in her palm. Thor knelt to move it, and set her arm closer to her body, uncovering scratchings in the hard clay as he did. He stilled, his breath catching when he recognized the runes, a spell. He felt ill as he reached out to trace the deepest of them, his own name, carved deeply into the cave floor.

“Thor!” Loki’s voice was sharp, reverberating around the small chamber as he rounded on his brother, but in seeing Thor’s state, changed his mind, moving closer instead to see what had caught the thunderer’s attention. Thor could see him lick his lips in his peripheral vision. “She was trying to contact you.” His voice heavy with pain.

“She was calling for help.” Calling to him to save her. He could see the effort she had put into it, the runes carved for the spell, written carefully, neatly, calling upon the seidr she could feel within this odd world to assist her erratic magic. It had been a long, complicated spell, pulled from some dark recess of her mind. Thor could read it, but it was unfamiliar to him. Wherever had she learned it?

“I taught it to her.” Loki answered softly, and Thor realized he must have asked that question aloud. His voice grew desperate, more desperation than he could remember ever hearing in Loki. “And now you’re here to help her. I need your healing stones, whatever you have.”

He set Sif’s dagger down to retrieve the two stones he had, and offered them to Loki, but his eyes didn’t leave the carvings, following their progression as they degenerated from a coherent spell to a record of her distress. A cry for help, begging not to be left alone.

Loki uncovered the injury to Sif’s abdomen with a low hiss, drawing Thor’s attention enough to drag his gaze away from runes. Three claw marks, all deep, but it was the middle one that would have proved fatal had she been here too much longer. It was too much like the scar she’d received fighting fire giants, and Thor looked away again, feeling the weight of his failures settle upon his shoulders.

One of the stones broke in Loki’s hand, a familiar sound, and even more familiar scent of herbs and healing seidr as the crumbled pieces were sprinkled into the worst of it.

“She should have called for me. I would have recognized the effort immediately.”

“You’re dead, Loki.” Thor said bluntly. “She knows that… and she counted on me to recognize her efforts to gain my attention.”

Loki made a noncommittal noise as the next stone broke in his hand.

Thor wished that he could get used to the claws that dug so viciously into his heart. How had it all come to this?

“Get me her tunic.” Loki demanded as he carefully lifted her shoulders before slipping beneath them and working her into a seated position, propped against his chest.

Thor’s boots scraped against the floor as he rose, to move out of the way and retrieve the soft undyed material. It was torn, the bottom of it blood-soaked, but it was something he supposed. He handed it over to Loki who dressed her as carefully as he had moved her, covering up the freshly closed wounds.

Her armor was a lost cause, he realized as he picked up her chestplate. She still had her vambraces at least, which wasn’t much, but was as much a _’something’_ as the tunic was. He dropped the mangled metal back onto the pile, not noticing that the temperature had dropped to more tolerable levels.

Loki flinched at the loud sound of metal on metal and glared at him. “The stones closed the wounds, but she’s too dehydrated to replace the blood she’s lost. We have to get her out of here.”

“Her dagger is beside you, she usually keeps it in a sheath in her boot.” Thor bent to pick up her sword.

“I know where she keeps her dagger.” Loki snapped, and Thor lifted his eyes to look at him.

“I know you do…. I know you probably know her better than any of us.”

“You know nothing.” He muttered, his arms closing protectively around her.

Loki liked to believe that Thor was an idiot, but he was a lot more observant than he was given credit for. He had seen just how close Loki and Sif had been, but in knowing them both as well as he did, he also knew that pushing the subject would be a mistake right now.

“You’ll have to carry her weapon, her belt won’t fit me.” It was going to be a challenge getting her out of there, squeezing back through the crack, but they had to find water.

“Help me get her up.”

Thor handed the sword to Loki and bent to lift her out of Loki’s lap, scooping her up in his arms.

He buckled the belt around his waist. “I’m going to go through the crack first. If you can position her at the opening, between the two of us, we can hopefully get her through.”

It was as good a plan as any. Thor nodded in understanding, and watched as Loki vanished through the space. The witchlight followed overhead, lighting the narrow opening as he set her on her feet, holding her so that she wouldn’t fall, and awkwardly maneuvered her so that he could, unfortunately, as there was no other choice, jam her into the crack.

At least she was smaller of body than he was and fit much more easily than he had, and with less work than he was expecting, Loki managed to extract her from the other side. Thor followed after them, inching his way through as the he was literally caught between a rock and a hard place.

Finally, he too was free, and picked Sif up again from the floor where Loki was sitting with her, draping her over his shoulder with a silent apology for the indignity of it. Promising to apologize for many things when this was all over. He turned, moving toward the entrance of the cave, realizing that it was not nearly as bright as it had been before, which also made him take note of the previously unnoticed temperature drop. Thor turned to remark about it to his brother, but everything suddenly went dark again, pitch black.

With Sif in his arms, his ability to fight would be impeded, but he was going to take no chances, and called Mjölnir to his hand, testing the dark as he had before by calling to her to light their way. And as before, it didn’t work, leaving him unable to do anything except wait.

After a few minutes, the temperature dropped further, and the sky lightened. No longer did they stand in a cave in Muspelheim, but on the edge of a leveled city. Mjölnir was suddenly too heavy in his grip, he tightened his hold, but it was no use, the weapon slipped free, crashing hard against the cracked pavement upon which they now stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my original plan to keep this to four or five chapters has been completely blown out of the water. I honestly don't know at this point how long it's going to end up. This plot just keeps expanding.


	6. One Day You'll Make a Dream Last

The palace was in an uproar as Odin’s personal guard tried to break into the King’s rooms, but the spells cast to keep out intruders held fast. It had been nearly two hours since he had been expected to return to the throne room, and while he had instructed them not to disturb him, sundown had come and gone. The funeral, which had been scheduled to commence before full darkness, had been postponed as concern for the Allfather’s welfare took precedence. Two of Asgard’s sorceresses were called in to untangle the spells, but it was taking much longer than expected with the layered and linked magicks, apparently laid by more than one seidmadr.

Fandral watched on, blond brows pulled together. He had been uneasy since Sif left for her task. It was one thing for Odin to send her out alone to handle Lorelei, there were good reasons for that, but she had long ago earned her position among Asgard’s armies, and stopped going out on quests alone centuries ago. It seemed unlikely that she would have chosen to go unaccompanied, so Odin must have ordered it, and _that_ was what was bothering him the most. Especially now that there was obviously something amiss with their King.

“I thought I would find you here.” Hogun’s soft voice drew his attention and he turned away from the door to regard his friend.

“Asgard crumbles beneath our feet, and I can do nothing except watch.” Fandral sighed at Hogun’s raised eyebrow. “Dark thoughts, I know. Blame it on spending the day expecting to watch our friend’s pyre burn.”

Before Hogun could respond, a cry went up, the heavy doors to the royal suite banging open, and both men looked up to watch as two Einherjar and Eir and rushed inside. All was silent for several long moments, then:

“The Allfather is missing!” Two more guards, waiting outside the door where the sorceresses, who had opened it, still stood, turned and ran to sound the alarm.

Fandral met Hogan’s eyes, and on unspoken agreement, hurried off themselves to speak with Heimdall.

~

The city that stretched before them was Midgardian, and Thor’s eyes roamed the crumbling skyline for landmarks to identify it as either New York or London, the two cities he was most familiar with. His heart clenched, an angry bellow bubbling up from deep in his chest. He had to find Jane, it was a deep, visceral need, one that he understood, on a subconscious level, made no sense. She wasn’t here, couldn’t be here, but this was New York, he was sure of it.

“Thor!” Loki snapped at him. “It’s not real!”

He spun toward his brother, Sif’s limp body shifting toward the outer edge of his shoulder with the force of his movement, and Loki bared his teeth.

“You will drop her, oaf. This is no more real than Muspelheim was, but at least we might find some running water here.”  
Thor’s jaw flexed as he shifted Sif to a better position, his eyes flashing at Loki as he bent to pick up Mjölnir. He tugged, but the weapon didn’t budge. He could feel himself panicking, remembering how it had felt to be unworthy, the grief, everything he had lost in his banishment. The deluge of mixed feelings made it difficult for him to think, and he set Sif down, laying her carefully on the broken asphalt before he turned to try and pull Mjölnir up with both hands.

Loki hissed, picking Sif up himself. “Leave it! Sif will succumb to dehydration before you break whatever enchantment holds it there.”

Guilt clawed at him, but he knew Loki to be speaking truth. “Go, I will follow once I’ve figured this out.”

“Do not be a fool. We rescued Sif from her nightmare, and now this world preys on your fears. It would keep you here forever trying to lift your hammer.”

It was true, Thor _knew_ it was, deep down, but whether it was this world’s doing or not, he still could not lift Mjölnir, and he couldn’t leave it here.

“No one can traverse this place alone.” Loki sounded resigned, but Thor couldn’t see his expression as he was turned slightly away, looking down at Sif, held in his arms. “We will figure out how to get Mjölnir back, but we have to find water first.” He glanced over at Thor, his face inscrutable, and started down the row of destroyed buildings.

Thor dropped his eyes to Mjönir, gaze lingering even as he started after his brother, until he could watch it no longer and was forced to look where he was going. It was eerie, this dead city. Nothing moved except scattered trash, shifting in the breeze; a light wind that carried the scent of death and ash. Fear curled, a living, writhing creature, as irrational as it might be, and he found himself seeking Jane amid the wreckage.

“Stop looking for something you do not wish to find!” Loki snapped at him. “I have no doubt that your mortal can be found here, but _it is not her_.” The vehemence managed to penetrate the heavy unease that hung over Thor’s shoulders, and he turned to follow when Loki ducked through a shattered window into what looked to have been a coffee shop.

Glass crunched underfoot as he moved past overturned tables and laid her down on the counter top looking to Thor expectantly, a scowl creasing his brow.

“I will watch watch her.” He murmured, stepping toward her. Apparently satisfied, Loki moved around a pile of broken mugs and vanished through a door behind the counter.

Thor’s eyes wandered over Sif’s waxy complexion, and set his hand on her chest to gauge the shallow rise and fall of her chest, reassuring himself that she yet breathed.  
“Prop her up.” Loki demanded. Thor shot him a look, but moved his hand, and then shifted a little closer to Sif’s prone body, supporting her head with one arm while the other looped around to raise her shoulders.

Having been successful in finding running water, Loki returned from the back room with a large tumbler, carefully he raised it to her lips, feeding her sips and forcing her to swallow until she started to come around, not quite conscious, but close enough to get the liquid down on her own. It was time consuming, but neither brother spoke while they worked, and eventually the tumbler was empty. Loki vanished again to refill it, repeating the effort until he was satisfied that she needed no more for now.

Thor eased her back down, frowning when she didn’t wake, but it was to be expected, time was needed for her body to repair itself. Unfortunately, time was not something they had much of.

“Hela is likely wondering why you haven’t returned yet.” Thor murmured, a little concerned about Loki simply vanishing on him. Though things with his brother were awkward, he wasn’t ready for Loki to be gone again so soon.

“Hmm?” Loki hummed, an annoyed edge to his voice before he seemed to realize what Thor was saying and scowled. “I am sure the hour grows late, but I’m beginning to wonder how great a pull Hela might have in this place. She will likely be rather cross when I return.”

“I once thought you and she might wed.” Thor abruptly changed the subject, a sad smile touched his lips, and he brushed her matted hair away from Sif’s face. “It wasn’t to be, father saw that you were betrothed to Angrboda.” He had no idea why he was bringing this up, such old history. There had always been care there, hidden beneath their barbs, seen most when one of them was injured or in danger, but to the casual observer, it was easy to believe that Loki and Sif truly did hate each other.

Loki’s marriage did not last, and while Thor had caught Sif slipping in or out of Loki’s rooms occasionally after Angrboda left Asgard, they kept their pairing private; however, the closeness his brother and his friend had once shared was gone, more often they were tense with each other, short of temper, and occasional downright vicious. If Sif took many others to her bed, she was too good at keeping her affairs quiet to get caught. Loki had plenty of lovers, coming and going as Thor’s had, but Sif’s relationships…. She had little luck in that department, first with Loki being married to another, and the tragedy with Haldor not so long thereafter.

How had she ever managed it? Thor could not imagine being capable of killing Jane, no matter the force that occupied her mind, no matter that it spelled the end of his. He had never been able to relate to the pain she had endured, not until now, and it was with that, he wondered how she had clung to sanity.

As could only be expected, Sif had changed in the aftermath of Lorelei’s attempt to rule Yggdrasil, become more reserved, more private. He had noticed her warming to him, and, more recently, the way she had carefully offered him her heart. He didn’t really regret rebuffing her, she deserved better than for him to take what she offered while desiring another. Thor found himself hurting for her nonetheless, there was a little part of his heart that was utterly broken, feeling as if Sif could not possibly look at him the same way she used to. He had failed her, failed in so many things. Thor continued to berate himself, caught up in knowing that he had ignored her call, the carefully carved spell permanently tattooed on his mind. _Not ignored._ He corrected himself, as if that would help. He hadn’t realized that she was in need of aid, had misinterpreted what he was receiving, and had he realized, would surely have come. He would accept no other truth.

Thor abruptly realized that his thoughts had run away from him and turned his gaze to Loki who was staring at him with a rather peculiar look on his face.

“The Allfather would have never allowed our union, what do you think prompted him to marry me off in the first place?” Bitterness laced his voice. “Of course, we cannot forget my monster heritage. What better way to hide that then by ensuring that I marry one of my own?” Loki laughed mirthlessly. “He always intended for her to be yours. Something that she never felt the need to protest.” His lips curved, smile taking on a malicious edge, and Thor braced himself. “I should thank you for denying her. The betraying wench deserves your rejection.”

Loki had always been prone to extreme mood swings, so his sudden change was no surprise, but even expected, it caused the reaction the trickster had been hoping for. Thor’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing, offended both for himself and on Sif’s behalf; however, before he could speak, Sif made a noise that sounded like a choked laugh.

They both turned to look at her. She was apparently coming around, but her eyes were still closed, lips parted as she drew deeper, yet irregular breaths.

“Sif?” Thor spoke to her softly and Loki took a step back away from her.

“Be...gone.” She breathed, the word broken up between her inhale and exhale.

“Sif, it is I, Thor.” He cupped her cheek. Her eyes didn’t open, but she swatted at him ineffectually.

“Hallucination.” The word was soft, barely uttered at all, but finally, she opened her eyes.

Her eyes slid past him, focusing on Loki who stood quietly, unreadable. “No, Sif we are here. We will take you home, but you should rest more, regain your strength.”

Another choked laugh, her throat obviously raw from heat and dehydration. “Odin sent me here to die, but this world would torture me first.” She closed her eyes. “Will have to try harder.”

“Let her sleep, Thor.” Loki said, his own voice rather rough, a rare show of regret on his face. “She’ll be more alert when next she wakes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really hard time with this chapter, it just doesn't seem to flow very well, but if i don't post it, I'll just keep tinkering with it indefinitely. So, I apologize for the disjointedness, and the excess grammar issues that I'm sure exist. The more I mess with something, the less mistakes I seem to catch.


	7. Maybe One Day You'll Understand Why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter, illness and camping sucked away my writing time.

The blast of the Bifrost jerked Jane’s attention away from her calculations, scribbled messily on one of the margins of her battered notebook. Still gripping the pencil, she pressed her hand to her pounding heart and stood up, moving to the door to greet Thor. A crease appeared between her brows when she realized she had forgotten to put on a pot of coffee. He always seemed more willing to talk when he had something to drink.

Jane could picture it now, his hands engulfing the mug as he absorbed the heat it offered. He was not good at hiding his emotions, and he rarely tried to; though he didn’t always let them out. How many more losses would he be able to take, she wondered, before he finally snapped under the weight of it all?

The Bifrost couldn’t let down too close to the house, and Jane tried to decide how much time she had before he would reach the door. She eyed the coffee maker, taking a step toward it when her front door rattled with the force of the knock that was laid upon its surface. Jane froze, her heart thumped against her ribs harder even than before. If it had been Thor, he would have simply let himself in, that there was a visitor from Asgard outside her home could not possibly be a good thing.

The trek across the room seemed to take an eternity, but she forced herself to count her steps, using it as a distraction, and proof that time was flowing naturally. As long as she had something to focus on, she wouldn’t panic. The door creaked when it was pulled open, and she was faced with the three warriors she had met only once, though she had seen them in passing during her escape from Asgard. A greeting would have been appropriate, but all three of the men standing before her looked grim, and anything she might have said died on her tongue. All she could think was, where is Thor?

“Jane Foster.” The blond - Fandral - greeted. “We need to speak with you, may we come in?”

A breath that she hadn’t even realized she was holding, whooshed out as she nodded, stepping aside to let them in. “Where’s Thor?” She finally managed, grimacing at how small her voice sounded, and she cleared her throat to speak again. “I expected him back by now.”

“That’s why we’re here, actually.” Volstagg spoke, looking apologetic when he exchanged a look with Fandral. She almost wished Hogun would say somethng, but he remained unnervingly quiet, standing back behind the other two. “He went in search of Lady Sif’s body, and now he has fallen beyond Heimdall’s sight as well.”

Jane’s mouth went dry and she licked her lips. “I know where he went, a mountain in Norway-”

“Aye, my lady.” Fandral nodded solemnly. “We know where he has gone, but were unable to find Sif when we went searching. Heimdall has suggested that you have some equipment that might be capable of finding anomalies in the mountainside, to help us figure out where they might have vanished to.”

She brightened, indescribably thankful that there was something she could do. “I have a couple things we can try, but we’ll have to go back to the tower to get them.”

~

Loki had been right, when Sif woke the next time, she was much more alert, and seemingly stronger of body; though still far from being strong enough to fight, and her mind was not faring nearly so well. She eyed them both warily, keeping her distance, and stubbornly refusing to listen to their attempts to convince her that they were really with her. It made her a dangerous ally to have until she was willing to accept the truth.

Loki didn’t argue with her, apparently resigned to her assertion that he could not be real, his lips pressed together in a hard line. He sat, watching her as warily as she kept her eyes on them both, but despite the trickster’s attempt at locking down his expressions, Thor could see his worry, and that did nothing to ease his own mind.

It was hard for Thor to understand why she would give up on her friends so completely. If it had been him injured and trapped, he would have lost consciousness confident that someone - likely Sif, he realized grimly - would come for him, and finally his frustration with the entire situation, his inability to lift Mjölnir, as well as Sif’s reticence grew too strong to be contained.

“How could you give up on us? You even tried to contact me, but still you sit here, watching me as if I’m a stranger.” Glass crunched under his feet as he widened his stance, unconsciously preparing himself for a fight that he should have known wouldn’t come. She knew how weak she was.

Sif, who was sitting in one of the upright chairs that had once held the shop’s patrons, narrowed her eyes at him, slivers of hazel, set deep, bright in comparison with her sallow complexion, the dark circles that accentuated her condition.

“How could I believe that no help was coming? The same way that I know that you are not Thor, and that,” She jabbed accusatory finger at Loki, “is not really Loki. The spell didn’t work, there was no recognition, no feedback at all when I tried…. _and tried_.” Sif sucked in a ragged breath that tore at his heart. “Thor is…” She trailed off, looking angry and sad before she too wore an expression of resignation. “There is no reason that he would know of my disappearance, and Loki is dead. Besides,” Sif continued sullenly, “you don’t have Mjölnir.”

That stung, but it was true, he hadn’t recognized her attempts to contact him, and if Heimdall hadn’t sent that message, he would still be blissfully ignorant of her disappearance. “Sif…” But he had no idea what to say, and she scratched idly at her scarred shoulder, eyes now averted toward the glass and garbage littered floor before she spoke again.

“This world knows my greatest fears, I have no doubt that it knows what I most wish for as well.”

A snort sounded from the corner that Loki had settled himself into. “You were as good as dead, why would this place have any interest in healing you? I always thought you had better sense than that.”

The corner of her mouth tugged into a smirk, but there was no amusement to be found accompanying it. “If you really were Loki you would not be so quick to dismiss me. There’s no punishment in my death. Freya holds claim to my soul. There’s little for me in Asgard any longer, and the Valkyrie will welcome me. The Allfather doesn’t want me dead, if he had, he would have simply had me executed. No, I’m here for punishment.”

Thor listened with a dawning sense of horror that was quickly swallowed by denial. His father wouldn’t do that to Sif. Odin had always planned for her to be Queen, her loyalty to his son was important to him. No. He wouldn’t accept it, but when he glanced at Loki, he could see that same horror mirrored in his expression.

“If you really think that we’re here to torture you, why haven’t you left. No one’s stopping you from walking away from us.” Sure there was a rational part of her mind that could see that they were real.

The sound of fingernails on plastic told him she was gripping the underside of her chair, and there was no mistaking the naked fear that shone in her eyes before she dragged herself back under control. Sif pushed herself to her feet, and did walk away, but not out of the coffee shop. She vanished into the back room, and Thor was hit by the conclusion that she would choose hallucinations over being alone..

“Is that all this is, some sort of elaborate prison?” One way or another, they would get out of here, Thor was sure of that, but Sif’s paranoia had definitely planted a seed of worry. They got in here easily enough, but where was the exit?

Before Loki could answer, a man came stumbling into the coffee shop, grunting, roaring from deep within his chest, startling both men. Thor’s immediate response was to try and help him as he was obviously injured, but once he was facing the intruder head-on, there was no longer any thoughts of providing assistance.

“Draugr!” Loki cried, reaching for Sif’s weapon, which still hung on his hip. His favored knives would do nothing against the undead.

Out of habit, Thor reached for Mjölnir, but the hammer wasn’t there, hanging on his belt, it was instead sitting in the depression it had created in the pavement, too heavy for him to lift. He picked up a chair instead, swinging it at the walking corpse. It connected, sending it flying against the wall where Loki dispatched it quickly, separating its head from its shoulders with Sif’s blade.

Thor stepped over to nudge its body with the toe of his boot.

“Give. Me. My. Weapon.” Sif bit the words off, and Thor's head swung around to witness the first show of anger he had seen from her since she woke, moving toward Loki with clear intent.

“I will not, Shieldmaiden.” Loki sneered at her.

“ _Loki!_ ” That’s just what they needed, for Loki to go making things worse with Sif.

“You are still shaky on your feet, and no good to us in a fight, I will carry your weapon until you can handle wielding it.”

Sif glowered, holding her hand out for the glaive’s grip. Thor could see her jaw clench as she wobbled, not yet recovered.

“ _That_ is why I will be carrying your glaive. Draugr do not exist in singles, there are more of them out there, and this is the only weapon suitable for slaying them until we figure out how to retrieve Mjölnir.”

Her molars being ground together was audible, but she didn’t argue, not even when Loki looked victorious, and Thor wondered if that meant she was starting to believe that they were who they said they were, or if she was past caring. Probably the latter, though he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“You aren’t unarmed anyway. Your dagger is still in your boot.” Thor informed her, waiting for her gaze to flick back over to him before he offered her an apologetic smile.

“.....I know. I already checked.” His smile wasn’t returned, if anything, the pinch around her eyes, and the tightness of her mouth highlighted her lack of mirth. “If more draugr are coming, we need to get out of here. There’s no way out the back.”

Loki’s gaze swept over Sif as if he was trying to gauge her condition, guilt still glittering brightly in his eyes. Thor’s brows bunched. He was starting to get the feeling that Loki knew more about what was going on than he was letting on, it was an unsettling revelation, but one that he was, unfortunately, unable to ponder at the moment.

The scuffing of feet on the cracked sidewalk outside alerted them to the fact that they were out of time. Sif bent, retrieving her dagger from her boot while Thor contented himself with fighting with his hands. Together, the trio headed for the broken-out glass wall, prepared to face their next challenge.

Thor glanced at Loki and he nodded in return, the two of them communicating as easily as they once had, and crowded Sif out from between them, forcing her to flank where they could give her all the protection possible. She would be angry, but there was no way that he was going to lose her now.

The stench of death intensified, the shuffling bodies of the undead, coming closer at a steady, unhurried rate. Or had been until they noticed the three of them and a cacophony of growls and whines sounded. Thor made a sound of his own, then, one of abject distress as he recognized the draugr, his mortal friends and shield-mates, and Jane.


	8. Everything You Touch Surely Dies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to warn you all for canon typical violence, blood, and gore. Fighting zombies is messy business, and while I tried to keep things as non-squicky as possible, I feel like it's a good idea to let you know. I've decided to raise the story rating to play it safe.

“Fall back.” Thor said hoarsely, then again more loudly. “ _Fall back_!”

Loki tipped his head to glance at him without taking his eyes off the advancing threat. “Fall back to _where_ exactly?”

_Anywhere but here._ He thought, nausea coiling in his gut as he tried not to look at the condition of his friends, but raising a hand to them was…. Even in this state he wasn’t sure he could do it.

“They are not real, Thor!” Sif snapped at him, and he flinched.

“Just _fall back_!” He needed some space to breathe, his mind was spinning, hands sweating, and he couldn’t… Not like this. He knew they weren’t real, but _Jane_ was in there. His brilliant, beautiful Jane reduced to a mindless draugr, and she would force him to do what he knew he could not.

“Thor…” Loki growled, extending the second blade on Sif’s glaive. It wasn’t so different from fighting with a staff that way, and he had always been good with a staff. “There is nowhere to fall back to, this world is designed to destroy you!”

He knew it was true. Though this was more than a simple nightmare, it was not so different from one. Knowing, however, was not capable of easing his mind so quickly, and he shook his head stubbornly. “They don’t move very quickly, and I - _we_ need a plan.”

“Norns below, what have you become.” Sif cursed under her breath, but he heard her anyway.

Thor didn’t look at her, couldn’t. The failures which piled upon his shoulders grew heavier until he struck out thoughtlessly. “Just because you are heartless enough to kill a lover, does not mean that we all are.” He regretted it the moment it was spoken, but it was too late to take back. All he could do was apologize. There wasn’t time for a proper one, but he would try anyway. Would have tried even without Loki’s sharp look, verdant eyes boring into him.

“I am sorry, Sif.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, but her expression was a mask, her attention fixed on the hoard.

They should have attacked or retreated by now, and under normal circumstances, they would have done as Thor commanded and fallen back, but Loki saw no point in it, and Sif seemed to agree with him. They were at an odd standstill, which he didn’t know how to handle, and it seemed neither did Sif or Loki. Under normal circumstances, Sif would have taken control if Thor were unable, but her weakened state prevented her from engaging directly.

“Fall back.” Loki finally decided, turning away from the draugr whose rambling, unsteady gait had nearly brought them to within reach. He snagged Sif’s arm to drag her along with them, and they ran down the otherwise abandoned sidewalk, ducking down a narrow side road, looking for a place to stop and regroup where they could not be trapped.

Sif doubled over and pressed a fist tight to her freshly healed abdomen as she worked to catch her breath. “Pull it... together, Odinson.” Slowly she straightened, glowering at him. “You want me to believe that you’re really here. _Prove it_. Don’t fail me again.”

Every word was a minor blow, reminding him of his recent shortcomings, but she was right. Nothing in this world was real. It was trying to break him down, and using those he cared most for was the best way to do that. Thor nodded. “You are right, Sif.” He glanced over at Loki who was watching Sif with concern. “This place is getting to me, but I will _not_ fail you. Either of you. I swear it.” Not again. Never again.

“Wonderful.” Loki said dryly. “Now can we get this over with? I would rather engage them on the wider street.”

“We will eliminate them and figure out how to retrieve Mjölnir so we can leave this place.”

Sif snorted doubtfully, but said nothing, taking another slow deep breath, reminding Thor of her condition.

Wordlessly they arranged themselves into formation, again positioning Sif behind them which earned them both a hiss a protest, but, testament to her weakness, she made no effort to correct them from trying to protect her.

Trekking back the way they had come proved that they had run a greater distance than Thor had believed, and he hoped the hoard had been distracted enough to pass them by, moving off to another part of this Norns forsaken world. An uneasy silence descended on the trio, keeping quiet to prevent drawing attention to themselves.

Any hope of being ignored or forgotten about was quickly dashed as they again reached the main thoroughfare.

A snarl that was more wild animal than human sounded from just out of view, and Loki, being the only one adequately armed, prepared to take out the threat as it came around the corner. Sif’s glaive flashed in his hand, catching a ray of sunlight which illuminated their location but didn’t reach the street, and the draugr’s head fell rolling toward Thor’s feet. He refused to look at it directly, refused to acknowledge which of his friends was the model for that one.

To avoid being pushed back down the narrow street, the three of them burst out into the intersection. Unfortunately, doing so exposed Sif more than he would have liked and she was immediately forced to defend herself as a rotting version of Steve Rogers swiped a too long, arm tipped with dirty, chipped fingernails at her. The dagger in her hand moved with practiced ease, with no evidence that she was still recovering, but Thor didn’t have the opportunity to watch as he had enough to contend with himself.

With no weapon of his own, he could only fight with his bare hands. Which was unpleasant, especially in this case when he was looking into the faces of friends. Unpleasant, but not difficult. Draugr were no more resilient than the beings they used to be, less so actually as they were rotting away.

Loki cursed, but Thor didn’t have a chance to see what was going on before the thing that should have been Fandral growled at him, and he shook his hands free of the mess that had accumulated there.

Thor caught the draugr’s arm, yanking it forward with a sickening ripping noise so he could catch it around the neck. A woman screamed and he spun around, dragging his prey with him as he turned to see Sif’s dagger rip into Jane. _Not Jane._ he whispered to himself to stop from trying to intervene.

Not Jane clawed at Sif, catching her across the chest before the dagger did its job and finished the draugr. The last thing Sif needed was further injury, and Thor dispatched the one he held to go to her.

The next few moments played out in near slow motion as he was derailed from his task by another attacker. Loki’s voice sounded far away as he yelled Thor’s name, and he looked up at his brother, hacking away from the middle of the remaining undead, their numbers somehow seeming to grow. “ _Sif!_ ” Loki cried out, panicked, the fear in his voice making his blood run cold.

It had only been a moment, _just a moment_ since he’d looked at her, but when he glanced back to where Sif had been standing, she wasn’t there. Sif wasn’t standing there because she had fallen, her lifeblood covering the chipped pavement and the draugr who tore into her.

Thor roared in pain and anger, his vision clouding as he staggered toward the undead, ripping him off her body and flinging him away, but even without kneeling close he knew it was too late. _He was too late. Again._ In his grief he called to Mjölnir, stretching his arm out to receive her, forgetting that she’d been stolen from him as surely as Sif now had been.

And yet….

The whistle of his hammer as it raced through the air alerted him to the fact that she’d not been lost. Had he tried calling her since she fell? It was a brief thought, quickly forgotten when the weapon’s grip met his palm and he closed his fingers around it. Thor gave in to the rage, letting it drown out his anguish.

He lost track of Loki, lost track of everything except his enemy, striking and crushing with no thought except destruction, inching closer to the berserker rage he hadn’t fallen into in a century. Until suddenly, there was no one left to fight and he was left standing in the middle of the carnage, chest heaving.

That was when things slowly came back into focus and he found Loki on the ground, Sif’s body pulled halfway into his lap. He was rocking. Loki was rocking as if he was holding a small child, trying to soothe it to sleep, and Thor’s vision blurred as hot tears burned tracks through the rotten carnage that covered his face.

It couldn’t be true, he refused to accept that it was true, not after everything. She’d been nearly dead when they found her before. There was no way that they saved her life only for it to end like this.

Though Mjölnir felt surprisingly light in his hand, his feet were heavy, taking a huge amount of energy to lift as he crossed the distance between him and Loki.

“She died….” His voice caught and he cleared his throat. “She died in battle. She would have liked that.”

“ _Do not dare._ ” Loki half whispered, half hissed. “Sif wasn’t meant to die here in this cursed place.”

“No. She wasn’t.” This was no place to be lost, where the fights meant nothing and the sacrifice without payoff. He realized he had lied, she wouldn’t have liked this. Losing her life so pointlessly...

He watched as Loki pushed shaky fingers into her tangled, bloody hair, brushing it back from her face though it hadn’t fallen over her features in the first place.

“This is my fault.” He felt those words so keenly that they reverberated in his chest even after they were spoken. “If I hadn’t been-”

“Yes!” Loki bit the word off, looking up at Thor with such vitriol that he wanted to recoil. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t been so afraid to fight creatures that looked like your friends, maybe you would have been more alert!”

He turned, hurling Mjölnir in a fit of temper, but before he could respond to Loki verbally, his brother’s legendary mood swings struck again, and when he spoke again, his anger was gone. “You got Mjölnir back. After Sif was killed.”

“....Yes.” He wasn’t sure what the significance of that was, and called the weapon back, more relieved than he would admit that his tantrum hadn't resulted in losing it again.

The sky began to darken which didn’t surprise anyone any longer, this torture had come to its end and it was time for this place devise another one.

Thor bent, lifting Sif up off Loki’s lap to ensure she didn’t get lost in the transition. There was no way he would leave her behind after all of this. With her secured over his shoulder, he offered Loki a hand to help him up, but the trickster ignored it, rising to his feet just as the last of the light winked out.


	9. Same Old Empty Feeling In Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. This chapter just did not want to come together.

Very little of Jane’s equipment was designed for easy carrying. Not because she didn’t want it to be portable, but because so much of it was prototype, little more than the cobbling together of different parts to try and get it to perform a specific function. Once it was successful, then more time could be put into streamlining it, but, unfortunately, she was usually halfway through another project by the time she got the first to work.

Tony Stark, or rather, Pepper Potts was regularly in contact with her, trying to negotiate a position for her within Stark Industries, but she was wary. They were already providing her with lab space, and, of course, extra manpower, and plenty of funding would be extremely helpful, but it also meant that she had more people to answer to. Which was the (legitimate, she thought) concern that she would have less freedom in both expanding, and condensing her theories.

Trekking up a mountainside with various pieces of unwieldy machinery was definitely making her rethink her choices. At least she had three Asgardians with her to carry the heaviest equipment. None of them had questioned her when she started making a list of things she would need, but she hadn’t missed the dubious looks on Fandral’s face when he examined some of them. Jane sincerely hoped that expression was for the fragility of it and not actually doubting that she would only bring what she believed would be needed. There was enough stress to deal with in this situation without adding in the desire to kick a certain mustachioed Asgardian square in the ass.

Most of what she was bringing was related to the equipment that had measured the Einstein-Rosen bridge that seemingly long ago day in New Mexico. Some of those old pieces had been cannibalized to create newer pieces, _better_ pieces, which she hoped would be able to detect whatever anomaly lay within the cave that loomed, dark, above them. An anomaly that was capable of swallowing people. First Sif, and now Thor, entirely vanished- _nope_ not going to dwell on that one.

Instead she focused on the calibrations that would need to be made as soon as the equipment was set up, the mathematical equations to set the frequencies they would run at, ensuring they worked together to bring in the proper readings. Otherwise, they could get false positives, and waste more time. If everything performed as she hoped it would, she would be able to map the energy that…. well, Jane didn’t know what it did. Maybe it just cloaked their position, or it worked something like the Bifrost and took them away to somewhere completely different. There were dozens of possibilities, but _what_ it was would be a secondary consideration for the moment. They first had to find it, and _see_. Then she could determine what it meant to the people who had disappeared into it.

“Shall we set up out here, or inside the mouth of the cave?” Fandral’s voice floated down to her from where he had reached their destination first, and it snapped Jane out of her thought process.

“Ummm. It’ll probably be more level inside.” Only now noticing the ache in her arms. She hoisted the blocky reader/printer that she carried, and sucked in a breath, making the final climb.

The timing was good, at least, as the descending sun illuminated the workspace, and Jane went straight to work, wiring the equipment together. The men who accompanied her asked a few questions, earning themselves noncommittal answers as her mind was preoccupied, and peripherally, she noticed that Volstagg and Fandral left, but that information was quickly forgotten in favor of things she currently _needed_ to remember.

Using the solutions she had already formulated while climbing, calibrating still took much longer than wiring did, and as the sun fell completely behind the mountains, it was all, finally, ready to be utilized.

The screen on the reader illuminated the walls of the cave as information scrolled over it, spiking graphs and numbers, alternating in a dizzying array that would make no sense to anyone except Jane, and maybe a handful of other people around the world, but even they would have to have it explained to them.

Hogun watched with something that might have been interest, but it was hard to tell as his expression changed so little. Regardless, she took as invitation to tell him what he was seeing anyway.

Jane’s finger stabbed at the screen without touching. “Do you see these? The highest points and the steep slope match the energy readings from the Bifrost, but it descends much slower and drops lower than the Bifrost does. This is where it gets interesting though, just watch….” Numbers overtook the screen for a moment, plotted points that described differences in the readings that couldn’t be seen on the graph. Jane wasn’t going to try and explain those, there were too many variables to be easily described. “See it?” She looked at Hogun once the numbers were once again replaced by the graph.

“It’s repeating.” Hogun’s brows drew together. “If you were watching the Bifrost, it would terminate.”

Jane smiled, pleasantly surprised at his immediate understanding. “Exactly. I can’t tell if it performs a similar function to the Bifrost, but I can say that there is definitely _something_ here. I’ll have to make a couple adjustments to see if I can get any varied results, and one of you can carry the transmitter further into the cave so I can see if the readings -”

The equipment suddenly went haywire as the graph rose off the screen in a jagged incline of power surges and the machine began to whine.

“Hogun! grab the transmitter!” Her eyes were glued to the information, not willing to miss anything important, but if the increase of power reading didn’t slow down soon, she wasn’t sure if her equipment could take it. Just before she was going to tell him to unplug it, the numbers began to decrease, leveling out much more quickly than it had increased.

“That was amazing!”

Hogun looked much less impressed, still holding the transmitter in his hand.

“Oh, yeah, you can put that down.” She paged through the new information, eyes flicking over it all. “I can’t wait to figure out what this thing is!”

~

The all encompassing darkness was so oppressive, that Thor didn’t immediately notice when the weight of Sif’s body, draped over his shoulder, began to lighten. It was only when the hand he steadied her with suddenly found itself with nothing to hold that he realized she was gone.

The sky began to lighten, going from black to a dark purple, rippling with stars. The air was thin here, but not painfully so, thankfully. Not that Thor was considering that as he spun, looking for Sif. Had he somehow dropped her?

“Where is she, Thor?!”

There was a complete disconnect between the voice Thor was hearing, and the panic it contained. He straightened, Sif’s missing body temporarily forgotten as he turned around slowly.

Loki was not standing there as Thor expected him to be. Instead, the match to the voice he’d heard was there, glaring at him in a way that was just as hard to reconcile as the tone he’d spoken with.

“Father?”

Odin took a stumbling step back, a look of horror twisting his features, his one blue eye widening. He looked down at his hands, turning them over, examining them as if he’d never seen them before. “No. No. Nononono.” He looked up at Thor, then at the sky above them, a sound, half whine, half gasp caught in his throat.

A scream pierced the thin air like a steel bolt to mortal flesh, and, simultaneously, both men’s heads snapped toward the source of it. Thor shuddered at the sound of it, so distinctly familiar, and yet he had never heard anything so terrible from his friend. Never had she been so scared, so hurt.

“ _Sif_.” The anguished whisper wasn’t Odin’s, but Loki’s voice spoken from the Allfather’s form. “He has her.”

“He? Loki?” Nothing on this world was real. _It’s not real. That can’t be Sif. It’s not real._ “This is your nightmare.” Thor’s hands closed into fists, afraid that he already knew the answer to his question before asking. “Why do you look like our father?”

“ _Your_ father. Not mine!” He hissed, contorting Odin’s face in ways that Thor had never, in his many centuries of life, seen on Asgard’s King.

Whatever this place was, it was uninviting, a series of land masses - asteroids, perhaps? - connected by stairways. Rocky and lacking in any plant life, what atmosphere it possessed was obviously not natural.

Loki’s form glowed green as he tried to break the illusion, but it stubbornly stayed in place as he stalked toward one of the stairways that bridged the space between land masses. Another scream, impossibly more shrill than the last, and he was running.

Thor bolted after him, intent on catching Loki before he ran into whatever threat awaited them, but even wearing Odin’s form, he was too quick.

“Loki! Stop!” Amazingly, he did; upon reaching the base of the stairs, paused and looked back at Thor with the one wild eye he possessed, illusioned, as he was, to look like Odin. “It’s not her.” He had the feeling it was never her, any of it. She was already dead, lost to this place in whatever horror her own mind had allowed this twisted land to create. Those words caught in his throat, a truth that was too terrible.

“ _Would you bet her life on that_?” Loki effectively slapped Thor in the face with his own unspoken words.

“…No.” He said after a moment, sighed. For as much as he believed that she was already lost to them, he couldn’t take the chance that he could ultimately let her down when they were this close to finding her. “I will help you find her, but first you will tell me why you fear being seen as the Allfather.”

Loki straightened to every inch of Odin’s height, icy blue eye narrowed as he regarded Thor with an expression that he couldn’t place. “I fear….” He bared his teeth, suddenly angry, fists clenched, and Thor expected him to turn away and leave rather than say what Thor has already assumed to be the truth. Loki was posing as Odin. How or why or when it began he does not know, but he knew, _felt_ , it to be true.

Loki did turn away, but did not leave. “I fear that I have become no better than the Allfather. My lies… his lies have shaped me until I see too much of myself in his actions…. Too much of him in my own.”

The candid answer caught Thor entirely off guard, and he gaped at Loki for a moment, both relieved and horrified that he would be so afraid of something that Thor had hoped of himself. In many ways he wanted to be more like his father. That he was not accounted for a large part of his decision to abdicate his position as heir to the throne. He was not cut out to make the kinds of decisions a King must.

“I care not whether you believe me.” Loki continued. “If anything happens to Sif in this place I will never forgive myself.” He mounted the steps, and Thor followed after. More disturbed now than he had been when he saw Loki wearing Odin’s form.

“What is this place?”

“The last place I ever wanted to return.”

In that answer, he expected no more elaboration, but again Loki surprised him.

They topped the bridge, stepping from the narrow steps onto hard dirt. “I have never lied so much as the days I was here. Lied until I began to believe the words for truth and vengeance was all I craved. I bought an army, but have not paid the cost.” Sif’s cry, ripping through the air punctuated that statement, and Loki _whined_.

“What is the cost?” The Tesseract. He had already known that whomever Loki had been working for desired the Infinity Stone, but he didn’t deliver.

“My misery.” Loki muttered.

It was a dramatic answer, but not unexpected. Loki was always prone to theatrics and Thor had the desire to fall back on old habit, roll his eyes, and tell his brother to calm down. Nothing was ever as bad as he expected it to be. Thor could not, however. Not when he had the feeling that, as dramatic as that answer might have been, it was not strictly untruthful. Merely a way to dodge answering more completely.

Much the way the Midgardian city had seemed deserted to begin with, Thor and Loki were not challenged as they made their way across one hobbled chunk of earth to another, silently chasing the tortured cries of their shieldmate.

Neither one of them spoke, but it was easy to see Loki’s growing anxiety as his movements, already less graceful than usual with Odin’s body, became jerky. Thor had no doubt that if he had tried to speak with Loki he would have only been snapped at.

 _Soon._ Thor thought. _Something will show up to attack us._ Though Mjölnir was light in his hand, being unable to lift it was still too recent a memory. He occasionally hefted the weapon as if to test that it was still within his grasp. Which he did again, his eyes dropping to the runic inscription.

Suddenly, Loki took off, startling Thor, but as soon as he looked up, he could see why. Sif was hanging by her wrists, chained to an upright stone slab a few yards away. The lack of light obscured her features, but there was no mistaking the dark puddle beneath her feet for anything except blood.

The damage wrought by the draugr was a stain on her torn tunic, and he was glad it wasn’t brighter. His stomach twisted as Loki reached her. She wasn’t alive, Loki’s cry of anguish was proof enough of that. Such a keening from Odin’s mouth was further disconcerting, but at least it was Loki’s voice. Thor needed to go to him, calm him down, get ready for whatever was coming next, but his feet felt rooted to the spot.

This world was taunting them, playing with them, trying to break them down. He couldn’t allow that, wouldn’t allow this place to beat him.

“Thor!” The change from grief to snarling was jarring, but Thor was on the move before he ever had the chance to think about it.

Loki stood, facing off with a species of alien that he’d never before seen. Not as large as a giant, but tall and broad enough to make Heimdall seem dainty. It’s skin was a dark shade that couldn’t easily be discerned, but glowing blue eyes were.

Thor raised Mjölnir, and it _smiled_ , vanishing in a puff of smoke when the weapon swung through the air it had only a moment ago been occupying.

"Show yourself, Thanos!" Loki screamed.

It laughed, the sound seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, and everything shimmered, brightened, vanished, leaving Loki - looking again like himself - and Thor standing in a well-lit room, furnished with heavy wooden chairs placed around a square table of equally substantial design. He looked over at Loki, but his eyes were averted, a muscle in his cheek jumping as his teeth ground together. More illusions? At some point he would have to ask about this 'Thanos'... “Loki.”

He didn’t respond except to clench his fists.

“When that woman arrived here, I had no idea this was going to be so much _fun_.”

Both men looked up as a hooded figure materialized on the opposite side of the table. Olive toned and brown eyed, he exposed chestnut hair as he pushed the hood back. His smile was wide, a flash of too-white teeth.

“I know, I know, dramatics, but how can I resist?”

“Where is Sif?” Loki growled. The man’s smile didn’t even dim.

“You are awfully concerned for a woman you deemed disposable enough to send here.” He arched an eyebrow. “-Oh! Where are my manners? You should probably have a seat, I have the feeling this conversation shall not be short.”

“Loki?” Thor wasn’t sure how to word the question. The, ‘is this true?’, and ‘what does he mean?, both sounded ridiculous in his head because he already knew the answer to that. Deep down, he’d been afraid that nothing was quite as it seemed, and not only because of the nature of this world.

“You would believe anything he says?” Loki’s answer left much to be desired, but it was a valid point.

“I find it fascinating that you are as terrified of the truth as you are the lies you spew, Laufeyson.” The man dropped down into a chair with a smug little smirk.

Loki’s response was drowned out by the sound of Mjölnir crashing against the tabletop with a resounding _crack_! It effectively wiped the look off his face as he flung himself backward out of the chair. “Where is Sif?!” Thor repeated Loki’s question from only a few moments earlier.

He stood up, frowning as he took the time to wipe imagined dirt from his black clothes. “You are lucky that I think you will be useful.”

Thor growled warningly.

“She lives.” He pulled his chair back away from the wreckage of the table. “Remarkably difficult to crack, that one, but I suppose anyone who can kill as easily and callously as she can would have to be strong of mind.” He sat down and smiled that creepy smile again, looking straight at Thor. “Have you any idea how easily she will drive a sword into your heart? I’ve watched her do it thrice." Some emotion that Thor couldn't identify flickered over his face. "Funny that it was you she tried to contact, but him,” he gestured lazily at Loki, “who evokes the greatest responses from her. It’s all quite fascinating. I’ve never gotten my hands on anyone so resilient as your kind.”

Loki tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him. “You are as much an intruder in this land as we are.”

He laughed again. “Oh, yes. I too had heard of the power in the weapon stored here. The sword the sons of Bor used to slay Ymir.”

“Where is-” Loki was cut off when Thor turned on him.

“That’s why Sif was here? To get you the relic father hid away for a _reason_?! Of course! That’s why you turned into Odin! You _sent_ her here…..” His voice abruptly quieted, then trailed off. “But you _died_ , Loki.”

“I _never_ died! I lost consciousness, and _you_ left me lying out there! When I woke up, one of the Einherjar was leaning over me, and I took advantage of it.”

Another infuriating laugh. “You two are quite amusing, really. So much pent up anger and pain between you. Both here to rescue someone you obviously do not care about as much as you seem to want to believe you do.” He gestured at Loki. “You, who would send her here with no care to the danger.” Thor’s jaw flexed when he looked to him. “And you ignored her call. With as much magic as she pulled from this land, that broadcast must have been strong indeed.”

“How do-” Thor’s voice rasped and he cleared his throat. “How do you know these things?”

He tapped his temple. “Your fears. Perhaps I should introduce myself.” Another toothy smile. “I am Phobetor; though some call me Icelus.”

The name struck a chord.

“Son of Nyx and Erebus.” Loki spat. “An Olympian.”

“Such disgust from a _Frost Giant_. He tisked. “Regardless, we are all equally trapped within this place. The sword was the key to the exit, and as it is no longer here, there is no way out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phobetor is the Greek god associated with nightmares, and since Marvel incorporates several pantheons into its universe, he seemed a fitting villain for this story.


	10. Never to Touch and Never to Keep

“ _Lies_.” Loki hissed. “I came to, and left from this land through the same gateway once before. We need only find it again.

Iceles laughed. “You did not leave the gateway’s proximity. Once you step out of sight of the portal, it is lost to you. Believe me, I tried for centuries to find it.” He bared his teeth. “If there was a way out of here, I would have _used_ it.”

“You two can argue over how we’re going to get out of here after you take us to Sif.” Just as Iceles had probably hoped they would, his words had set themselves on repeat, replaying in his mind, _'remarkably difficult to crack, that one'_. How dangerous was she going to be when they found her? Sif didn’t match his strength, but few were as skilled as she. How much damage had the Olympian done to her in the time she’d been lost on this world?

Iceles raised his hands, palms up. “She is not far, I do like to keep an eye on her. Her fears are so curious, you see.” Then he leaned forward, making the chair creak, and rested his elbows upon his knees, dropping his chin into a palm. “She fears no monsters, not death either, or losing those she cares for. Seems she believes that they are already gone, and who could really argue with her?”

Who could argue, indeed. “Sif has always been fearless, what is your point?” Thor rumbled, and Loki shifted, uncomfortable.

He continued on as if Thor had said nothing. “Her Queen and mother figure, dead. Her first true lover, dead by her _own hand_. Best friend, gone to pursue a life that does not include her.” Dark eyes turned to Loki. “And you, twice-dead, and an enemy besides.” Iceles stood and Thor tightened his grip on Mjölnir. “Still she loves you. Loves you both.” He snorted. “It is _pathetic_ really. The thing she fears the most is being alone, but the darkness in her mind is a close second.” He _pouted_. “I was looking forward to seeing what she could become.”

Loki made a sound like a feral animal. “Where _is_ she?”

“I told you, she is alive, and near, but I would caution you.”

The way Loki met his eyes, Thor waited for him to lose it entirely. As of late, his brother had not been known for the patience or diplomacy of his past.

Though he seemed oblivious, Thor was sure Iceles was not. “I keep her isolated. How better to wear down someone who hates loneliness? However, I do enjoy tormenting her with people from her past.”

Green eyes flashed as he turned away, but rather than the rage that had been expected, Loki straightened, a mask falling into place. “I realize that you have been trapped here a long time, and your manners have surely suffered for it, but if you do not take us to Sif _now_ things will be _very_ unpleasant for you.” Looking almost bored, he dropped his gaze to his hand, examining his nails as if they were far more interesting than the man before him. “Thor is not exactly known for his _restraint_ with the hammer.”

“Impressive intimidation tactic you have there.” Iceles said smoothly, smirking. “But you forget, Son of Laufey, that I know just how frightened you truly are.”

Thor barely saw him move, but in less than a blink, Loki had the other man pinned to the floor, the tip of his dagger jammed against the soft flesh on the underside of his jaw.

“Quite the pair, you two.” Iceles was still taunting, but Thor noted just how still he was, giving away his own fear. He was about to answer, remark upon their centuries fighting together when the Olympian continued, and he realized he hadn’t been talking about Thor and Loki. “You even fight like she does, or is it that she fights like you? When you choose to get your hands dirty, anyway.”

“Just kill him.” Thor said, annoyed. “There is no reason to keep him alive if he will be no help.”

Loki shrugged, and added pressure to the dagger until Iceles yelped. “Yes! Fine! Yes! I will take you to her!”

“You will take us to her now.” Loki prompted, giving the tip of the dagger a little twist.

“Now! I will take you to her now!”

“Keep a hand on him, lest he think to run, the coward.” Thor growled, earning himself one of Loki’s arched eyebrows, but he noted that Loki did grab a handful of Iceles’s cloak before moving off the man and letting him up.

Barely on his feet, Iceles snapped his fingers and the room dimmed, putting them through another magical shift.

Perhaps he should have expected it, but it was still a difficult sight to take in. As their vision returned, they found themselves standing in the crumbling ruins of Asgard. Overrun by vegetation, tarnished by fire damage, and broken apart. The once great spires cast a broken shadow over the square they now stood in. A fountain still stood in the center, filled with dank water and rotting vines, dotted with foul-scented flowering plants, and Thor violently squashed the memories of playing in that fountain as a youth.

He turned to glare at Iceles who bared his teeth in an unbearably smug grin. “Funny how she cares more for her realm than either of those raised to rule it.”

“You know nothing.” He retorted, reminding himself that none of this was real. Which was easier now with the one responsible firmly within Loki’s grasp. _Responsible_. Wasn’t that a loaded word in this situation? Norns below, he wasn’t ready to completely consider who was at fault for all of this.

Thor was pleased to see Iceles wince as Loki’s fingers tightened on his arm. “You put her here?”

“Wouldn’t you?” His continued amusement was as abrasive as sandpaper on skin.

Loki sneered, but didn’t answer, his gaze meeting Thor’s with an expression he couldn’t read.

Thor turned to survey the wreckage, hoping to find a clue to where she might be holed up, and breathed a silent prayer to the Norns that she was uninjured. Then shoved aside the strangling guilt. “How large is this cage?”

“It encompasses the whole city, and the Bifrost. I think she considered jumping off of it once.” Iceles’s chuckle ended in a wheeze as Loki’s elbow connected with the man’s solar plexus.

A smile tugged at the corner of Thor’s mouth, but it fell just as quickly as it appeared when movement caught his attention. It was little more than a dark smudge slipping through the broken shadows at the far end of the street, and for a moment he feared it was another draugr.

It moved too quickly for that, however, and his worries were quickly set aside, only to be replaced by others.

“Sif.” Loki breathed, and Thor turned to glance at him, his brow furrowing as Iceles, still struggling to catch his breath, took two steps back, away from them both.

Before he could get any farther, Thor moved, catching him by the excess material of his cloak before wrapping his hand around the man's bicep. “You are not going anywhere.”

A spark of fear flashed through Iceles's dark eyes, and Thor wished he could find some satisfaction in that reaction. “I warned you to be cautious, standing here this way is folly.”

“You did, but I think this is the best way to show our benevolent intentions.” Thor agreed, anything else would surely be taken as a threat.

Iceles shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

Loki cursed under his breath, his eyes fixed on Sif’s approaching figure.

Her approach was measured, neither hurried nor dawdling, and as she stepped into full sunlight, it glinted off her drawn weapon, held down at her side. He could feel her gaze on him, sizing them all up, eyes sharp, dangerous, but it was the smirk on her lips that was most disconcerting.

Thor had seen that expression before, but never turned on him. She was walking into battle.

Iceles tried to pull away, but Thor held him fast. “You are going to get us all killed.”

Thor ignored him, his attention on Sif.

“Sif.” Loki said again, and her eyes flicked toward him. “We are not here to hurt you. We’re going to take you home.”

Her laugh was light, as if she were amused by one of Fandral’s jests. “We’ve done this one already. Do you not remember? It’s how I ended up here.” Her free hand waved at the shattered remains of Asgard, a droplet of something, glimmered as it was flicked from her fingers. “Where else do you intend to take me?”

The exchange had not slowed her approach, and now that she was nearly upon them, Thor could see her more clearly. He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat, taking in her appearance. Her armor was dirty, stained with old blood, but intact; however, it wasn’t her armor that made his heart sink, it was the uneven, closely cropped mess of black upon her head, the too easy smile on her face, and the blood that dripped from the fingertips of her free hand.

“It’s true. We mean you no harm. We’ve both come to get you out of this place.”

“Oh, Thor. Do you remember your axe?”

He nodded vigorously, hoping that this was a way he could prove that he was really there. “Aye, it was a good axe, served me well before I was gifted Mjölnir.”

Sif hummed, coming to a stop a few paces away from them, and her eyes fell on Iceles, her eerie smile _widening_. “Indeed. It was a good axe that brought down many foes. Of excellent quality, it served you very well." Her eyes flicked to Thor's face. "Now it sits in the armory, all but forgotten.”

Unsure what any of that had to do with the assurances that they were there to help her, he answered simply, “Aye… I suppose that it is.”

“What did you do to your arm?” Loki asked with quiet alarm.

Without looking down at it, her hand closed into a fist, and an array of unreadable emotions flickered over her face. “Something necessary.” Her gaze fell back on Iceles, and he jerked.

“Let me go!”

Thor’s fingers tightened reflexively, too tightly as Iceles flailed, trying to get free, he could feel the man’s bones creak under his hold.

“Thor!” Loki’s voice broke through his confusion, but it was almost too late.

Sif’s swing had come with all the practiced precision of her many centuries of training and experience, cutting off Iceles’s cry as the blade of her glaive separated his head from his shoulders.

In an effort to save himself from the same arc, Thor threw himself sideways, shoving Iceles’s body away in the process.

The world around them flickered, but no one saw it as Loki sprang at Sif. She tried to pull her weapon back, to turn it on him, her body twisting to face him, but she wasn’t fast enough, and he knocked her to the ground.

Everything flashed, bright and too hot, and Sif snarled.

Instinctively, Thor threw his hands up to shield his face, but nothing happened, and after a moment he could feel the world’s seidr settling, leaving them sitting in the same clearing where they had found the first signs of Sif. It felt like a lifetime ago now.

Sif bucked, and Loki dug his knee harder into her back. “Thor, the sword!”

Despite his attempt to keep from being hit, he hadn’t been able to completely avoid Sif’s sword, so that when he moved now, the deep gash in his arm protested. Thor grit his teeth against the pain and lunged for it, clamping her wrist in one hand while he pried the grip of her glaive out of her hold.

At the same time, Loki had twisted her other arm behind her back to examine the runes carved into her skin, a series of three in different stages of healing. “What were you thinking!”

She laughed, and Thor leaned over to see what Loki was looking at.

“This is blood magic, Sif! It’s not to be played with, you _know_ that!”

“Where did she get the spells, Loki?” Thor rebuked as she must have learned them from him. Never had he imagined that she would put her fate in dark magics.

“These aren’t established spells.”

Sif hissed as Loki, pushed her arm farther up her back so Thor could see more clearly the pale lines crisscrossing her skin, the layers of whatever spell she had woven upon herself.

“How dangerous is it?”

Loki shook his head. “It’s impossible to tell, too many false starts, and trials. It looks like she was trying to protect her mind, but this…” He trailed off and brushed his fingers over the angry red lines of the newest set of runes. “It looks a lot like the berserker spells of old.”

As if she was waiting for exactly that cue, she started fighting, her body rocking under Loki in an effort to free her hands. “ _Not_ a berserker, I have my mind! **I’m _keeping_ my mind**!” Despite the vehemence, her voice broke, but rather than calming, she fought harder.

Loki muttered something that Thor couldn’t hear, but it was obvious enough what it was when Sif suddenly fell silent and limp against the damp grass.

“If there is any hope of undoing this, I will need Eir’s help.” Loki looked ill.

“We have to figure out how to get out of here.” Thor scrubbed his hands over his face and looked over at Iceles’s body. “And move camp. “We can’t stay here with all this blood.”

“Sif will be out for a little while, but I can’t keep her like this. She’ll have to be restrained which I can see to, but it will be taxing on my seidr.” Loki sighed and followed Thor’s gaze to the remains of the Olympian.

“We needed him to navigate this place.”

“Poisoned by blood magics or not, we would have had no luck in denying Sif this weregild.”

It was not an argument that Thor was at all interested in taking. “We should backtrack. If we can find the place we came in, we might be able to locate the gateway even if we can’t see it.”

“If it were that easy, I doubt Iceles would have remained here all this time, but I do not, yet, have a better idea.”

Thor got to his feet, then bent to scoop Sif up.

Loki shook his head, shifting to pull her into his arms. “I will need to know when she starts to wake.”

“Keep your eyes open, I have the feeling this place is plenty dangerous without Iceles’s influence.”

Choosing a direction that felt correct, they left the sunshine to move into the shadows of the forest.


	11. 'Cause You Loved Her Too Much and You Dived Too Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is twice the length of my usual chapters, and I did consider splitting it into two, but I couldn't find a place that I felt was a natural enough break to do so.  
> There is a lot going on in this chapter, and with so much of it happening simultaneously, I tried to write it in a way that was fairly clear and straightforward, but I don't have a beta, so there is a pretty good chance that what seems clear to me, isn't as clear to someone who can't see into my head. Heh.
> 
> Also, another warning for some gore at about the same level as the draugr attack from a few chapters back.
> 
> Okay, I think I'll leave you to it.

Jane’s eyes were burning from staring at the display for so long, but she was so close to…. well _something_. She wasn’t entirely sure what the something was, but it was tickling at the back of her mind, taunting her. Which is how she knew she was missing a key element that her subconscious had not. It was just that she couldn’t get her conscious mind to wrap itself around whatever it was and make something useful out of it!

They had found the entrance to whatever odd dimension Thor was trapped in, but didn’t dare enter as it seemed pretty likely that it permitted entrance, but did not allow exit, a locked door that could only be opened from one side...

At some point, Volstagg and Fandral had returned with some sort of partially butchered animal—which Jane made an effort _not_ to try identifying—and it was that freshly prepared meat, now fully cooked, which Volstagg offered her.

“You should eat something, Jane. Take a break and rest your mind. You will be sharper for it.”

She blinked at him, feeling a little sheepish for the fact that she was surprised at his simple but wise words. Despite getting to know Thor as the complex man he was, Jane had given little thought to the friends he had left behind. Which wasn’t really her fault, when Thor spoke of the past, it was with Loki or Frigga on his mind.

Still, no matter how wise the advice, setting her instruments aside when her boyfriend was trapped in a pocket dimension of some sort was nothing she wanted to do, and it was only with great reluctance, under Volstagg’s expectant gaze, that she did.

“Yeah, I guess I should.” She sighed and accepted the chunk of… _whatever_ it was, still skewered on a sharpened stick, and tested the temperature with her finger before taking a tentative bite. Jane found it to be surprisingly flavorful, and her expression adequately illustrated that point.

Volstagg smiled approvingly, and sat down beside her as she chewed.

“This is really good.” She she told him in between bites; swiping the juice that dribbled down her chin with the back of her hand.

“Aye, my Gunnhilde always makes sure that I have healing stones, and seasonings. One never knows how long they might be out in the field, and a good meal is of utmost importance.”

Jane waited until she had swallowed what was in her mouth. “Gunnhilde is your wife?”

“She is.” At that, the large man’s voice softened along with the rest of his features, his jolly countenance openly displaying his affection.

Boots crunched over lava rocks as Fandral came over from the fire to sit with them. “I’ve never seen a better match.” He grinned at Jane before adding, “Until you and Thor, of course.”

His eyes slid away from her face to look at Volstagg, and his smile slipped just a bit. Which was enough to make Jane turn to look at Volstagg as well.

Her brow furrowed at his frown. “You don’t think we are right for each other.”

The big man sighed apologetically. “That is a complicated subject which holds little bearing on the situation. Thor is clearly in love with you, and you also seem to care deeply for him, which is all that matters. Forgive me, I am merely worried for my friends.”

Jane looked over at Hogun, still by the fire, but watching Volstagg with an inscrutable expression, and couldn’t help but feel that Volstagg’s claim went deeper than just Thor’s and Sif’s current well-being.

“No, I get it. Believe me…” Jane muttered the last, and ignored the weight of her heart. She did love Thor, more than she ever thought she could love a man, and he swore that choosing her was the best decision he’d ever made, but they both knew how temporary this arrangement was for him. The thought of leaving him alone one day was more than capable of stealing the air from her lungs.

Fandral cleared his throat, but whatever he might have said was lost to her when her eyes landed on the display of her instrument, and it finally _clicked_.

“Time and space.” She breathed, picking it up and looking at the relatively even reading. Before it had been more variable, but whatever had been affect things in that world was currently quiet. “It’s like a two way mirror. To the person on the mirror side, it just looks like a mirror, but it doesn’t make it any less a window to someone on the other side.” The two men sitting next to her exchanged a glance, but Hogun left the fireside to listen to her, and Jane looked up at him. “Maybe, if we can push something partway through the gateway, it can be wedged open so that it can be accessed from either side.”

“It will depend on the nature of the gateway, but there is no harm in trying.” Hogun’s brow creased.

Fandral jumped to his feet. “I have just the thing to try!”

~

Iceles’ fingers twitched, then curled, packing dark soil under his fingernails as his eyes popped open.

It was a predicament to be sure, his head severed and out of reach, but as a true immortal, he was not so easily disposed of. He was annoyed, of course. Perhaps being beheaded was a decent way to die, but it was a terrible way to _not_ die. Were it not for his determination to get back on his feet, he would have buried his consciousness for a while to hide from the pain.

He had allowed his hopes to go too high it seemed. Loki was a powerful sorcerer, the very land here reacted to him, but he was obstinate, and now that he had the woman… If he were capable of sighing in this condition he would have. Regardless, the trickster was his best hope of escaping this place, and after so many centuries in this world, there was no way he was going to give away the opportunity. Loki _would_ cooperate with him. Even if he had to steal back everything he cared for to make him bend.

~

While they had hiked in the general direction they had originally come from, Sif had slowly begun to rouse from the spell Loki had put her under. They paused in the dappled shadows of the forest, and Thor had hefted Mjölnir, his sharp gaze on the look out for any sign of the wolves that had troubled them upon their arrival.

He neither heard nor saw anything to indicate a threat lurked out of sight, though that was hardly comforting as he listened to Loki murmur—just softly enough that he couldn’t make out the words—to the woman in his arms. Whatever it was, a spell or merely words of comfort, aside from a disturbing keening noise, Sif hadn’t fought him, and now, as they continued toward the mountains that rose above the treetops, her hands were caught in Loki’s lapels in a white-knuckled grip; her face buried against his chest so that all Thor could see was the way her unevenly cut hair swayed with the trickster’s gait.

Forcing his eyes away from that ragged, tangled mess, he briefly met Loki’s, and took in his brother’s closed, tense expression. Thor started to ask after him and Sif, but Loki’s eyes sharpened in warning, and he, instead, nodded curtly in understanding.

It was hard enough to see his friend in such a state, but if it had been Jane he found… Though that comparison was a fallacy, to assume that Loki was capable of feeling for Sif what Thor did for Jane was folly. Loki had proven that he no longer cared for anything so much as power and vengeance.

His throat tightened as he looked away. Loki may seem as if he was invested in Sif’s welfare, but what would happen then they were free of this place? It was a painful subject, but he knew that his brother would trade Sif’s life for his freedom.

That realization had come so easily that it shouldn’t have shocked him as much as it had, and perhaps it wasn’t that which set his stomach to churning, but the need to get Sif out of his arms before he was given the chance to do so. If he wasn’t already turning her against him with his whispered words!

How difficult would it be for him to sway her in this state? Thinking on that, the way Sif now clung to Loki was disturbing in a completely different way than it had been only a few moments earlier.

A ripple shivered through the atmosphere as they left the treeline where the ground began to slope upward, and Sif jerked, shoving violently away from Loki..

“Thor!” Someone yelled for him.

Loki held fast to Sif, but fell to his knees in the struggle. Seeing that Loki still had her, his head shot up, looking for the source of that familiar voice, his heart clenching in fear. “Jane?!” He could hear her, but didn’t know where she was, or even if she was real.

“Watch—” The rest of her warning was drowned out by a snarl as a wolf sprang out of shadows behind them, and onto Loki.

Forced to release Sif, he cursed, but it was impossible to know whether the profanity was for releasing her, or the wolf that plowed into his upper back. He was knocked forward, bracing himself on his hands as the wolf’s teeth snapped near his ear, but it wasn’t able to catch anything, and it’s momentum sent it somersaulting.

Sif, who had been covered by Loki’s body during the attack, scrambled out from under him, and jumped to her feet where she swayed. Her eyes were dull as she shook her head, trying to clear it of the cobwebs left by Loki’s spell.

 

 

Nearby, Iceles watched, excitement growing into something like glee. The wolves only showed up when the gateway had been opened, the first line defense of this world, and where there was one, there was always more. He already knew that the Asgardians would not be brought down by anything so mundane as _wolves_ , but it would keep them busy while he took advantage of the open gate.

He scratched idly at the dried blood at his neck, letting his gaze slide over the melee, and climb the mountainside to where a thick tree branch stuck out of the rock. The top of a woman’s torso could be seen there, her hand pressed to her to her mouth, and he grinned in recognition.

Escape was finally within reach.

Taking advantage of their distraction, he moved along the edge of the trees taking advantage of the cover it offered him as he headed in the direction of the gateway.

 

 

Fandral’s grip was tight around Jane’s waist, ensuring that she did not go completely through the gateway, which ultimately ended up being a good thing since she would have leaped into the middle of it if he hadn’t been holding her.

He felt her muscles bunch, her feet trying to push off, and he jerked her backward into the cave and away from the black maw she’d been leaning into.

“No! They’re being attacked!” She fought him, trying to pull away, but he kept his hand on her arm.

“They? Sif is there?” He shook his head sharply. Now wasn’t the time, and he would see for himself soon enough. “I will go assist, but not unless you promise to go to Hogun and Volstagg.”

Disbelief, anger, helplessness all flickered over her features, but she finally nodded. “Fine, but go!”

He let her go and took a deep breath. The gateway didn’t appreciate the heavy tree branch they were using to anchor it open, it’s previously placid surface rocking like a lake under heavy winds. Whether it was necessary to do so or not, he didn’t know, but was glad that it was there before stepping through it.

The drop caught him by surprise, and he stumbled and fell once his feet finally found solid ground again. Luckily it wasn’t all that far to fall, so it wasn’t as disorienting as it might have been.

“Sif!” The cry would have drawn Fandral’s attention no matter who had yelled it, but the echo of two very familiar voices was somewhat shocking since one of them was supposed to be dead. Regardless, he was on his feet immediately, and would have been running to assist if not for the strike he took the back of the head. His vision swam as he landed back on his knees.

 

 

A wolf yelped as Loki hit it with a blast of seidr, and a second was sent flying by a hit from Mjölnir, but neither one of them could use either weapon against the third which was locked in battle with Sif, a mass of fur and skin and glinting armor.

They rolled together, and Thor and Loki both ran to try and help, but before they could get their hands on either of them, Sif bellowed, and the wolf _screamed_.

Thor grabbed the animal as they had both gone still, and yanked it off of her, tossing it aside in a rain of blood while Sif rolled to her feet, the wolf’s heart clutched in her fist. Were he a lesser man he would have quailed under the the gaze she turned on him, eyeing him not so differently from the way one of those wolves had likely sized them up before attacking. In all his memory, Thor could remember no time that he’d ever been so glad his friend was unarmed.

The air was thick with Loki’s seidr as he called on it, drawing it around himself like a shroud, his eyes glowing bright in the sunlight. “Come Lady Sif, you must be weary.”

Her eyes widened, but, to Thor’s surprise, she took a step toward Loki.

“Thor!” Thor looked in the direction of the call, where Fandral had gotten back to his feet, and waved for them to follow as he set out to climb up the way he’d fallen.

It was Thor’s turn to curse when he saw why their friend did not venture closer. “Iceles!” _But how could that be?_

Loki did not turn to look, and though Sif twitched as if she wished to, whatever leash Loki had placed on her held.

“I have her, Thor. Go.” Loki spoke calmly without taking his attention from Sif, and Thor felt a pang of indecision. If he really did have something nefarious planned with Sif, this was proof enough that she was already under his thrall, but Iceles was headed for Jane.

Making the decision, Thor spun and bolted toward the gateway just as Iceles passed through it, Fandral at his heels.

 

 

Hogun had just finished snuffing out the fire while Volstagg tried to organize all of Jane’s equipment into an easy to collect pile just inside the cave when Jane’s hurried footsteps warned them of her return. They both turned to her approach.

“I saw them there are giant wolves Fandral’s gone to help.” She was breathless, speaking too quickly, but Volstagg had no trouble understanding her anyway. His experience with excited children had trained him to listen carefully.

“Wolves you say?” He hefted his axe, intent on joining Fandral, but didn’t make it a step before an unfamiliar figure materialized out of the gloom behind Jane, and hooked his arm around her neck.

“Hey!” She struggled, but he simply tightened his hold on her. Then spun her sideways as another pair of foot steps sounded from within the cave. Someone slipped on the loose rocks, but didn’t seem to slow until they caught sight of Jane in the other man’s arms.

“Let her go, Iceles.” Jane’s gaze went straight to the shadows upon hearing Thor.

Iceles laughed. “I might, but not yet.” He buried his nose in her hair with a deep inhale. “She has such wonderfully vivid nightmares.”

“Let her go now, and I might spare your life.”

His next laugh cut off quickly when Volstagg shifted. Iceles clucked his tongue. “Oh, no, if you move again, my friend, I’m afraid that I might squeeze just a little too hard.” His arm tightened around her neck, and Jane’s eyes widened with a flash of fear and anger.

Hogun was standing just off to Iceles’ left and considered the situation. There was no doubt that he would receive the same warning Volstagg had if he moved, just as Thor would, but a low toned whistle that came from within the cave was a well-established signal that they all knew well. Fandral was in there, just waiting to provide enough of a diversion for them to take Iceles out.

It was a risk, but so was leaving Jane Foster in his hands.

Fandral’s approach was loud, boots coming down hard on the uneven ground as he materialized out of the dark. “That is no way to treat a lady.” He admonished. “Even a scoundrel like yourself should know that, surely?”

Clearly suspicious, Iceles’ dark eyes took inventory of the other three men around him, then scoffed. “Such worry for so short-lived a creature.”

Which was when everyone moved at once.

Iceles’ grip tightened dangerously around Jane’s throat as her air was completely cut off, and Hogun jumped on him, slipping a knife into Iceles’ kidney as his other arm tightened around the Olympian’s throat in an identical hold to the one that restrained Jane.

The man flailed, unable to scream without oxygen, but rather than release Jane as he jerked, he tightened down on her. As her vision began to darken, she clawed at his arm.

Volstagg struck Iceles in the temple with the blunt end of his axe handle, and he finally loosened his grip on Jane as he slumped in Hogun’s hold.

Hogun gripped the man’s chin, preparing to break his neck, but as his arm constricted over Iceles’ throat, something warm and wet began to spill over his vambrace with a squelching noise.

Fandral’s handsome features twisted in disgust as Iceles’ head slowly separated from his body

Thor grabbed for Jane, pulling her into his arms as she coughed and gasped, and watched as the villain’s body flopped to the ground.

Even Hogun, ever stoic, looked revolted as he let the head fall.

“I’m going to set him on fire.” Jane rasped.

“You could, but I have a better idea.”

If the situation were different, it might have been comical the way every head turned toward the source of that drawl.

Loki carefully set Sif down onto her feet, steadying her with his hand on her arm.

“Sif!” Volstagg took a step toward her, worry etched deeply upon his face, but Loki stopped him with a raised hand and the shake of his head.

“Please, no one touch her. She’s still dangerous in this state if she feels threatened.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Hogun’s eyes narrowed doubtfully.

“Blood magics.” Thor answered for Loki, his arms tightening possessively around Jane who didn't seem to mind, burying her face in his armored chest.

Hogun’s gaze was a sharpened dagger as it settled on Loki’s face, the accusation silent, but understood anyway.

Thor ignored the subject he could practically feel buzzing among them. “What do you propose we do with the body? He has already proven that beheading is but a temporary inconvenience.”

“I say we throw him back into the world he has come to know so well.” Loki examined his fingernails. “Then I will destroy the gateway and ensure that there is neither a way in nor a way out.”

Thor watched his brother pick something out from under his nail, a ridiculous exercise with Sif’s bloody fingerprints smeared down his cheek. They were all covered in it the proof of their adventure, and Thor longed for a hot bath. “Aye. I agree.”

Loki let go of Sif’s arm and bent to pick up Iceles’ head. She swayed a bit, but otherwise didn’t move.

Thor kissed Jane’s forehead and made to shift her off his lap so he could assist, but Volstagg shook his head at him.

“We can handle this.”

He nodded gratefully, and turned his attention back to Sif’s still form. It was eerie to see her like that, hazel eyes dark and far away, her body standing with none of its natural grace, and looking as if she could be blown away at the slightest breeze, but the drying blood, thick enough to look like gloves was reminder enough that she was not nearly as fragile as she appeared.

Jane’s gaze followed his as she rubbed gingerly at her raw throat.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.” He nuzzled her hair, taking comfort in her scent, and trying not to think about the fact that it had been Loki on the throne all this time, or what that meant for Asgard; what it meant for Loki. “I have no idea what’s going to happen next.”

A few moments later Sif shuddered, and her hands clenching into fists as raised voices drifted out of the cave. Thor watched her, his uneasiness growing until she raised her hand to her face as if she had never seen it before. Then, as if in slow motion, she turned to look at him.

There was no way to know whether she meant to attack him or not, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Not with the unnaturally cold cast to her eyes.

Thor pushed Jane aside a little more forcefully than he meant to, but despite everything that had happened, she seemed to realize the situation was urgent. “Stay back.”

The urgency she could hear in the demand discouraged her from arguing, and she did step back toward the cave entrance. What had only a breath ago been a possible threat, was becoming a more clear possibility of attack as Sif bared her teeth at him. Whatever magics had been holding Sif, and keeping her calm, was fading. “I’m sorry, my friend.” He murmured, just as she lunged at him, and he met her attack with Mjölnir.

“Oh my god! Thor!”

Heartsick, he stepped over to her crumpled body, checking to see that she was still breathing before he looked back at Jane. “Did you bring a rope?”

“Not a rope, but I have wires.”

“Bring them to me.”

She gave a short, jerky nod, and set the emotional stuff aside. There were things to do and time to sort all of that out later. Unplugging a couple pieces of equipment from each other, she carried the cords over to Thor who made short work of securing Sif’s hands behind her back, and binding her feet together.

“She’s gone crazy?!” It was half a question.

Before Thor could respond, the Warriors Three emerged from the cave with Loki cradled in Volstagg’s arms. “It was harder to destroy the gate than he expected. I think he exhausted his seidr.”

“Gather everything. We have to get them back to Asgard.” Thor picked Sif up and braced her over his shoulder as he had before, then forcefully shut out those memories. The others made quick work of cleaning up, and as a group they descended the mountain.

It was time to go home.


	12. And You Let Her Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, the conclusion!

“These spells…” Eir shook her head, wiped her bloody hands on a towel, and frowned up at Thor. “The first of them is more than a week old, and what followed reinforced it, strengthened it. Lady Sif’s gift was battle, but it was her compassion that made her the war goddess she was. These spells, they overrode that. They were designed to preserve her sanity by suppressing other emotions. It’s a rudimentary berserker spell, but it’s gone past her blood at this point, it’s hooked itself into her soul. Until she learns to control it, she will be a danger to everyone.”

Thor glanced at the bandage on his arm where he had offered some of his life-blood to replace what had been removed from Sif’s body in an effort to weaken the strength of the spell. Too little too late, it seemed. What might have happened if he had responded to her effort to call him more quickly? Yet, what good did what-ifs ever do anyone?

“Who could teach her to control such a spell?”

“The Berserkers of old are all gone, the spell was transferred to staffs for a reason. Your mother might have been a good one to turn to, she was close enough to Sif to help keep her centered…” Eir trailed off, recognizing how unfair it was to mention Frigga at all. She looked apologetic. “These are old magics, _forbidden_ magics. I know no one in Asgard who would understand them well enough, and be capable of handling Sif as she heals.”

“I can think of one.” But to do that to her seemed a cruelty of its own.

“It is the usurper’s fault that she’s in this condition.” The healer said disapprovingly. “Would you truly do that to her?”

“If it meant one day getting Lady Sif back? I would do anything.”

~

Thor watched Loki stir, not at all certain if he felt relieved that his brother was finally waking or not. His tailbone was beginning to ache from sitting so long on the hard floor of the cell, but it was easier to sit there, keeping watch over Loki as he regained his strength than to pace outside the healing rooms where Sif remained in an induced coma.

Loki muttered something under his breath, a curse perhaps, or a complaint, Norns only knew, but it rankled Thor, nonetheless, made him feel impatient.

“Wake up, Loki. You have much to answer for.” Thor pushed up off the floor, ignoring the complaint of his muscles for being in one position for an extended period of time.

Loki cracked open one eye and rolled into a seated position on the edge of the cot he’d been sleeping on. He rubbed his eyes wearily. “How about we save all the tedious question that have no answers that you will find satisfactory, and skip straight to the part where you tell me how greatly I have wronged you, and the punishment you would give me, hm?”

Thor’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Is father dead?”

Loki sighed and straightened, fixed Thor with a baleful expression. “Your father is not dead, but I find it doubtful that he will ever wake as long as he has remained in the Odinsleep.”

“Do you have any idea the position you have put me in? Do you even care?” Thor couldn’t keep the grief out of his voice. “I left this realm for a _reason_. I am not suited to this role, and yet I’ve no choice now, do I? Who will lead Asgard if I will not?”

The look Loki gave him was utter contempt. “Where is she?”

So often Loki thought of no one but himself, and Thor would give anything for his brother to truly understand, _accept_ that his actions carried heavy consequences—he realized, with an unpleasant sort of jolt that Sif might be the only way that could happen. Making Sif his responsibility was just the kind of punishment Loki had too long been able to avoid.

“What care have you where she is?” He taunted, watched the way Loki’s eyes narrowed.

“Where is she, Thor?” He growled.

“With Eir.” Thor crossed his arms over his chest, but volunteered nothing else.

The trickster got to his feet and prowled closer to his brother, “ _Your_ father is in the vault. Sleeping. I know not whether he will wake, nor do I know what you will do if he does not. You abdicated the throne, Asgard will make do with or without you. You need only decide what you will force them to do. Now _tell_ me.”  
“I want to believe you care, _truly_ care; I need it be true.” Thor drew a deep breath. “As Regent King of Asgard I hereby banish you from this realm and bind you to a companion to share your fate.” Sickness roiled in his stomach, but it was the only option he could see with so little time to find a solution. “The spells Lady Sif resorted to for survival, in the prison _you_ sent her to, are irreversible.”

Loki looked incredulous, as if he might protest, but Thor cut him off, steeled himself to complete the decree, one which could not be withdrawn once spoken.

“If you can teach her to adequately control them while preventing her, and keeping yourself, from damaging the lives and livelihoods of those who share Yggdrasil, the banishment will be lifted and she, and you may return here, but if you harm her further, Loki…” The tone of his voice filled with the promise of violence, “I will personally ensure your soul is presented to Hela.”

Emotions raced across Loki’s face, betrayal, anger, Thor wanted to believe he saw relief. “You would banish Sif from the realm she has bound herself to?”

“I do not wish to, but Eir says she will be a danger to all. Except, perhaps, you. I can think of no one besides Karnilla who has dabbled in more magics, and I would never hand her over to Nornheim’s queen. Sif may hate me for this choice but… at this point, I would take hate over madness.”

Loki spread his hands. “You make it sound as if I have a choice.”

“You have a choice, Loki. You always have a choice. I just wish I could say that you were going to choose the right one.”

Loki grinned, a baring of teeth; his own version of madness lighting his eyes. “You’re using my feelings for her against me. You’re trying to manipulate me to do something I would have already done on my own. I do not like it, Odin’s son.”

“Then prove it. Without someone to take responsibility for her, the only place I can put Sif is in here.”

Something unpleasant shadowed Loki’s face for a moment, but was gone before he spoke again. “Then give her to me before she wakes. I know just where I can take her.”

Thor’s eyes remained fixed on Loki’s face, “Guard!”

An Einherjar approached the cell almost immediately having positioned himself nearby should something have happened and he needed to get to Thor quickly.

“Open the cell.”

He inclined his head to his prince and deactivated the force field, letting both of them out of the cell, but before they got far, Thor grasped Loki’s shoulder, pulling him to a stop.

“One day, I hope not too far from now, you and I must speak about a great many things.” He pulled Loki into a tight hug, not expecting anything in return, but Thor was pleasantly surprised by the way he tucked his face into the crook of his neck, making no effort to get away for several long seconds. He did eventually begin to squirm and push away, however.

“I will take care of her,” Loki said gruffly, “But you had better make sure she has a realm to return to.”

Thor felt his heart lighten with hope. “I will see to it.”

~

Flame crackled in the fireplace, the only sound except the occasional clank of tankard to table, the creak of leather against wood. The gathering was unnaturally quiet. Oddly enough it was Hogun who broke the silence. “We had planned for a funeral, my friends, a celebration of all that our Lady has accomplished. She is not dead, she yet draws breath, let us not do her the disservice of mourning her this way.”

Fandral tipped back his drink, draining it so quickly that it spilled out the corner of his lips. He slammed the empty cup down on the table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You make an excellent point. Let us not forget that if any of us has the strength of will to master such a spell it would be Lady Sif.”

Volstagg grinned so widely that Thor could only barely tell that it was forced. “Anyone who can make a Dwarven Lord turn tail and run simply by showing up can surely master a spell she wove herself.”

Jane tilted her head, “This I’ve got to hear.”

They all laughed, and Thor put his arm around her, drew her to his side. “It’s not much of a tale. Our Lady Sif is renowned for her battle prowess, short temper, and black hair. He decided not to find out if the rumors were exaggerated.”

Volstagg made a sound of disapproval, “You have forgotten the art of drawing out a story, Thor. That was a terrible way to tell it.”  
“He was smart to run.” Fandral added to keep Volstagg from waxing poetic about the craft of a bard. He rolled his empty tankard between his hands, “If anything, the tales surrounding Sif were often downplayed. If he feared what he heard, he would have been far outclassed by the actual Lady herself and three warriors that accompanied her.”

“You weren’t there?” Jane asked, looking up at Thor who shook his head.

“Princes occasionally have diplomatic duties that preclude skirmishes between allies.”

Jane pursed her lips, obviously thinking over that information, so it surprised Thor when she changed topics. “Do you really think it was a good idea to send her with Loki?”

“No.” Volstagg said, a scowl forming between his heavy brows, “I do not think it was a _good_ idea, but it was the best of few options. Whatever my feelings for the trickster, he loved her once. I hope that’s enough.”

“I saw Loki’s greatest fear.” Thor said softly, “He’ll protect her, and that… That, for now, is enough for me to let her go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so, so far overdue, but better late than never, right?  
> A huge thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this long, and I hope the ending isn't too disappointing after all the action that came before.


End file.
